ASIA

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Gorell University Library
Sthara, New Pork

CHARLES WILLIAM WASON

COLLECTION
CHINA AND THE CHINESE

THE GIFT OF
CHARLES WILLIAM WASON
CLASS OF 1876
1918

Cornell University Libra

“iwi

Cornell University

Library

The original of this book is in
the Cornell University Library.

There are no known copyright restrictions in
the United States on the use of the text.

http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924024010690

WILD LIFE
IN

CHINA.

WILD LIFE IN CHINA

OR

CHATS ON CHINESE BIRDS AND BEASTS.

BY
GEORGE LANNING,

Ex-Principal of the Shanghai Public School,

SHANGHAI:
“THE NATIONAL REVIEW” OFFICE.

1911.
&

The book may be obtained
In EUROPE, from:—
Messrs. Probsthain and Co.,
41 Great Russell Street,
LONDON.

W. C.

In AMERICA, from:—
Joseph H. Colyer Jr.,
17 Madison Avenue,

New YorK City.

PREFACE.
EW words will be needed to establish friendly
relations between one Nature lover and an-
other. For nearly sixty years, considerably more
than half of them spent in China, I have loved to
study the forms and habits of every living creature
with which I have come in contact, reptile life in-
cluded. Unfortunately, this has been possible, not
as a vocation, but as an avocation, during holidays,
travels, and odds and ends of time in an otherwise
busy life. During wanderings across the oceans,
through Europe and Siberia twice, through a third
of the United States, and along the ordinary Suez
Canal Route between Europe and China notes have
been made of such bird life as falls to the lot of the
traveller to see.

These, however, are common to many observers.
Those specially dealing with Wild Life in China are
now put into popular form for the first time, and it
is hoped that, notwithstanding many shortcomings,
this may in itself form sufficient*excuse for their
appearance in permanent form. I am indebted
more than I can say to ‘‘Les Oiseaux de la Chine’’,
the scholarly work of M.L’Abbé Armand David, et
M. E. Oustalet, to the late Mr. Consul Swinhoe’s re-
searches, to ‘‘The Royal Natural History’’(Lydekker),
to Mr. H. T. Wade's ‘‘With Boat and Gun in the
Yangtze Valley’’, and to various other writers. To
the ever present, ever néw, and ever delightful
stimulus of ‘The Field’’ and ‘‘Country Life’’ I, in

vi PREFACE.

common with tens of thousands of other Nature
worshippers, owe a constantly accumulating debt.

To the friendly critic who will find in stereotyped
form and length of chapters, in faulty phrasing and
style, in misprints here and there, and in other
matters deserving criticism, many opportunities for
the use of literary caustic I would say only this, that
the papers first appeared in journalistic form in the
pages of ‘‘The National Review’’ (China), that
they were necessarily confined within certain pre-
scribed space, and sometimes suffered in consequence.
For the rest, the writing of them, rather hurried
at times, was a labour of love, and if they find but
few readers to whom they give some slight pleasure,
such a reward will more than suffice.

G. L.

Shanghai, 1911.

PUBLISHERS’ NOTE.

The Publishers are permitted through the kind-
ness of Mr. Kingdon Ward to add as an Appendix
to this book some account of Wild Life seen during
the adventurous journey taken by himself and com-
panions in 1910 through unbeaten tracks in some of
the western districts of China. ‘These papers, which
appeared in ‘‘The National Review’’ from time to
time, will be found full of the original observation
of a man who sees and describes things and places
rarely if ever seen by white men before.

* * % % %

As the order of the chapters on Bird Life was
largely determined by the occurrences observed in
the avian world from week to week these chapters
constitute a rough guide to the doings of the birds
during the vear, and therefore the dates on which
they appeared are inserted in the Table of Contents.

CONTENTS.

Pace
Preface » 6s $08 sw 4 " ‘ . a se oF
Publishers’ Note At, : 28 Se See, eh Be a . vii
Contents . . . ay, Face & : : fo ek eww
Introduction . . . . a8 Sad foi te Ar le oe a ay SL
Citaprenrs.
I—The Mysteries of Migration (19th March) B pow od
II.—Geese (26th March) ‘ oe eto BR ee ce a 68

III,—Duck (2nd April) . hen Sb ate Bir iB tie Oh. tHe 2 so
IV.—Snipe (9th April). 2 ww we ee ee ee ee BB
V.—Woodcock (16th April) . . . 640 GZ? sig> drrSrcidae ee) ee
VI.—Rooks and Crows (23rd April) . 6. ww we ee ee A
VII.—The Crow’s Consins (80th April) . 2. 2. 1 1 wt. ew we 28
VIII.—Some Shanghai Singing Birds (7th May) . . . . . . 29

IX.—Herons, Egrets, and Bitterns (ldth May) . . . . oe . 88
X.—Cuckoos (21st May). . . dig We by (acta aS go wgic la ae SE
XI,—Nests and Nestlings (28th May) ot im dame Bo a fertin Stetson oA

XII.—Flycatchers (4th June). . 2 1 ww we ww ew 4
XIIT.—The Kingfishers (llth June). . . 2. 2. 1... 50
XIV.—Orioles and Rollers (18th June). . . 1... 1 1 ew. 54

XV.—The Finches (26th June) . 2... eR Benge 58
XVI.—The Tit Family QQnd July . . . . we Ap os te ee BD
XVII.—Woodpeckers (9th July) . . . ee a 06

XVIII.—Pigeons, Doves and Sand-Grouse (16th uly am ee ag EO
XIX.—Swallows, Martins, Swifts, and Night-Jars (23rd July) . 74

XX,—The Shrikes (30th July) soe ene BAS ae onthe a 78
XXI.—Mynas, Starlings, etc, (6th August) : : : : . 82
XXIL.—Plovers (13th August) . ‘ te : oe a BE
XXIII.—Plovers and Sandpipers (20th Aisgucats 90
XXIV.—Curlews, Whimbrels (27th Aucust). ’ » +» 95
XXV.—Bustards, Rails, etc. (8rd September). . . . ‘ . 99
XXVI.—Quails (10th September). . c ee . . 103
XXVII.—Partridges (17th September) . . ie ee eh a te tao Sl OF
XXVIII.—Pheasants (24th September) . 8. Bae wk ae ee ao
XXIX.—Pheasants. (Continued) (1st Detaber) Ye OR » . 115
XXX.—Pheasants. (Concluded) (8th October) . : ~ 2 age dD
XXXI.—Gulls (15th October) . . ie 5 8 Se aS ew 2s
XXXIL—Terns (22nd October) . . a 127
XXXIJ.—Cormorants and Pelicans (29th Dewbed, ee . . 2 132
XXXILV.—The Ibis and Crane (5th November) . ae ‘ . Laz

XXXV.—Wagtails and Buntings (12th November) . . . . sy dA.
XXXVI.—Autumn Migrants (19th November) . ioe owe ee TAS

Xx CONTESTS.

CHAPTERS,

XXNVIL—Birds of Prey: Vultures (26th. anes

NAXVIIT.—Eagles (3rd December) .
NXXIX.—Eagles, (Continued) (10th Deanne»

XL.—Falcons: The Peregrine (17th December)
XLI,—Falcons: The Saker, Goshawk, Hobby, Merlin and Kestral

24th December)
XLUII.—Hawks and Harriers (3ist Tivonben)
XUIII.—Buzzards and Kites (7th Junuary)
XLIV.--Owls (lith January) .
XLV.—Owls. (Concluded) (2ist January i
XLVI.—Chinese Field Sports.
(XLVII.—Chinese Field Sports, (Continued)
NLVIII.—Chinese Field Sports, (Concluded) .
NLIX —Tigers ‘
L, —Tigers, (Continued)
LI,—Leopards and Lynxes
LII.—Wild Cats
LUI—<aA Very Mixed Menagerie
LIV.—Soie Big Game
LY.—Reptiles
LVI.—Fabulous Creatures .
LVII.—Fabulous Creatures, tOondlutaa)
Appendix, The Big Game of Western China ,

PAGE.

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INTRODUCTION.

Perhaps the oldest classical reference to the natural
history of wild life known to the west is Genesis 1.29: “And
God said, Let the waters bring forth abundantly the moving
creature that hath life, and fowl that may fly above the
earth in the open firamament of heaven.” To the Chinese
there will come to mind, amongst the earliest of theirs, some
of the rhymed ballads contained in the “Book of Odes,” for
which the outer world as well as the Chinese is indebted
to the selective editorial skill of the great deified sage,
Confucius. It was he who out of some 3,000 metrical com-
positions selected the “Three Hundred’—actually three
hundred and five—which he rightly held in such high
esteem, and which are still a source of keen delight to my-
riads of modern scholars.

“Have you learnt the Odes?” he one day asked of his
son.
“No,” was the reply.

“Then you will be unfit for the society of intellectual
men,” was the crushing rejoinder.

Perhaps the impatient reader will want to know what
the “Odes” have to do with the matter under consideration.
The answer is ready. Even in the days of Confucius the
“Odes” were a mirror of the long lost past. They presented a
picture, or rather a series of pictures,of ancient Chinese
thought and action. Being true in poetry they were true to
nature, and it is here that their connexion with our subject
is found. The close student will discover scattered through
their pages references to nearly two hnndred plants and
animals. Of these roughly a half are allusions to birds,
beasts, fishes, and insects. They show that long ages before
man thought of the first great Chinese Encyclopaedia, that
of Wu Shu, (947-1002 a.p.), which deals largely with natural
history, there was that love of nature amongst Chinese
observers which has characterized them ever since, and
which will by and by be one of the links most closely con-
necting them with the purest and best thought of the West.

I have no desire in these sketches to attempt a
systematic and complete scheme of Chinese Natural
History. Even the much admired work of M. l’Abbé

XIV WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

Armand David does not claim to be that, although it gives
detailed information respecting some eight hundred species of
birds alone. Such a work is not within the power of any one
man to perform, without the aid of countless observers each
dealing with some circumscribed area. For as all students
of bird life know, there is still much to learn, many are the
doubts to be cleared up, and not a few mistaken preconcep-
tions have yet to be removed before Chinese natural history
can be an exact science. What personal experience has
suggested to me and my friends during a third of a century
will be jotted down in due course, Nature herself throughout
the “revolving year” being her own prompter as to the order
in which the various divisions of the subject shall be taken.
Classical severity of language, which must be the medium
through which exact ornithology expresses itself, will be
used as sparingly as possible. Merula Sinensis will sing
none the less sweetly during these beautiful spring mornings
if he is made to appear in his plain English dress of
“Blackbird.” But as we are a many-tongued people in the
Far East just now, it will be advisable in most cases to
supply in brackets, (I promise faithfully that it shall be in
brackets), the technical names recognized by ornithologists
everywhere. Otherwise it may happen that mistakes will
occur, as for example, when such a misused name as “Crow”
is employed. What does “Crow” stand for? Is it the French
Grolle, or Corbeille? Isit the Chinese Wu ya, or the Chin-
ese Lao ya? It is impossible to say, for there seems to
be as much confusion in the Chinese and French as there is in
English. But onceletthe technical Corvus corone be given, and
all doubt is dispelled. The identity is certain. It is the crow
wemean,thatsolitary, rather misanthropic bird, not the rook,
which is Corvus frugilegus, a bird fond of the company of his
fellows, and, as is unpleasantly evident in some parts of the
Shanghai Settlement, not less so of that of man. Except,
then, for purposes such as this, long-legged Latin terms will
be carefully eschewed. The Chinese name of a thrush-like
singing bird, Hwa-mei, 1s many times softer and prettier
than Leucodioptron Sinense. Besides this, we are sure
to find, as we proceed, that descriptions of one or two well-
known species will suffice for the representation of large
families less familiar, and so avoidance of dull detail will
be all the more easy.

Mention has been made of Pere David’s great work.
Others deserve like honour. Consul Swinhoe ranks high
amongst these. Some forty years ago he was perhaps the
greatest authority on Chinese Natural History. “The Pro-
ceedings of the Zoological Society of London” will be found
to contain several contributions of the greatest importance

INTRODUCTION. XV

from his pen. There are, for example, his “Catalogue of the
Mammals of China, south of the Yangtze, and of the Island
of Formosa”, his “Zoological Notes of a Journey from Can-
ton to Peking and Kalgan”, his papers on special birds, on
reptiles, and on the “Natural History of Hainan’. Some of
these are illustrated by well drawn and beautifully coloured
plates. Twenty years ago or more Mr. Styan, another en-
thusiastic bird-lover and collector, was Honorary Curator
of the Shanghai Museum, for which he compiled a useful
catalogue of the birds then housed there. His own collect-
ion of bird-skins, unique in its way, was once thrown open
to public view in the rooms of the North China Insurance
Company, then in the Hankow Road. Iam not aware that
Mr. Styan has written much on Chinese birds, a subject he
might have adorned; probably not, as he had other calls on
his time, but if | remember rightly, he contributed, some
years ago, to the pages of “The Field” some graphic notes
on bird life as he had seen it in the Yangtze valley. Of
naturalists with the hunting instinct strong in them I could
mention several. Those who have written, however, have
usually taken up rather the material side of houseboating.
Mr. Groom’s was the earliest book on the subject. His
“Sportsman’s Diary” was indeed a diary as its name implied,
but it was. something more, for there were in it valuable
notes on many things, including the habits of game
birds. Its successor, Mr. Wade’s “With Boat and Gun
in the Yangtze Valley” was in every way an immense
advance, and the second edition of that standard work now
announced will doubtless further add to its quality and
usefulness. In “Houseboat Days in China”, Mr. Bland has
largely sunk the sportsman in the naturalist. Bags are
scarcely named, but the book is instinct with a love of wild
life. He who shares this passion with Mr. Bland will be
keenly sensible of his intimate sympathy with his surround-
ings and will, with him, revel in the open air delights of the
cloudless skies of his winter holidays. When Mr. Bland
listens to the early morning melody of a thrush in the
magnolias of the Shanghai Public Garden, however, I should
very much like to ask if he were quite sure it was not a
blackbird, (Merula Sinensis as above), for it has never been
my good fortune to catch a song- thrush in these latitudes
in the act of song. Neither have I ever been charmed in
this province of Kiangsu with the overhead song of the
lark, which Mr. Bland more than hints at on the page follow-
ing. Since this statement was first published, however, a
courteous correspondent suggests that “in justice to Mr.
Bland” I should take a trip to the sea wall, where, if the
whether is fine in March, the skylark may be heard singing

xvi WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

overhead just as it does in Kent or Sussex. J am very
much pleased to know this. My acquaintance with the sea-
wall has, unfortunately, always been during the winter.
The fact that the lark sings within so short a distance of
Shanghai, and not at Shanghai, is another instance of a
curious difference which J have noted in the bird life of
closely contiguous districts in Kiangsu.

Of native sportsmenand true naturalists combined J have
knowntwo. Oneis dead. Neither of them ever wrote anything
of his intimate bird knowledge either in Chinese or English,
but bothwere sufficiently practical to be able to preserve such
specimens of their prowess as they cared to keep. Of the
market-supplying variety of “sporting” man Ihave met several,
of whom more anon.

It is surprising how few people have eyes for the wonder-
ful variety of wild life which boon Nature has showered upon
China. If this be partly due to the forbidding nature of
the scientific works on natural history there is no reason
why it should continue, for with all the modern appliances
for printing in colours, with a far more rational system of
education which looks to Nature herself for inspiration, and
with cheapened means of production, there is now so great
a number of natural history productions that the difficulty
is to know what to choose. And though, of course, there
are many birds in this part of the world differing from those
in western lands, yet there are still more which are either
exactly alike or closely allied. The rook, the magpie, the
sparrow, many of the finches, the thrushes, the water-fowl,
the gamebirds and others are so nearly like those of Europe
as to be indistinguishable except by an expert. The possess-
ion of a book of European birds would therefore be very
useful to the bird seeker of China. In the sketches which
follow it is hoped that though no complete system be attempt-
ed there will be information enough to stimulate that love for
wild life which is a thousand-fold its own reward.

WILD LIFE IN CHINA:

Chats on Chinese Birds and Beasts.

CHAPTER I.

THE MYSTERIES OF MIGRATION.

Rudyard Kipling has many admirers: but his only
worshippers are those who know his Jungle Stories. His
tale of “The Spring Running” comes irresistibly to mind
just now. A waving leaflet rouses the Black Panther,
Bagheera. “The year turns” he said. “The Jungle goes
forward. The Time of New Talk is near. That leaf knows.
It is very good.” He was talking to Mowgli, the Jungle Boy.

It is very good. Sunshine and warmth, flowers and
fertility, the music of the woods, the fragrance of the fields:
good indeed are they all. Nature moves. As Kipling says,
we are in the spring running. Birds in particular are full of
life, of joy, of motion. The time of migration has come.
He would be brave indeed who dared to dogmatize on such
amystery. The how, the why, the when, the wherefore of
it all is still to seek. Science collects her facts; that is her
duty, and perhaps in some long distant time, when men can
read the jungle life as Mowgli did, they then will be able to
fit their odds and ends of truth together and proceed to tell
the tale. Till then, it is to the poet we must go for inspir-
ation. He kows that

“Nature never did betray

The heart that loved her: this her privilege,

Through all the years of this our life, to lead

From joy to joy.”

That is our first clue. Wordsworth is right. “To lead from
joy to joy,” that is the lure by which Nature coaxes her
children to do her will. “So careful of the type’ is she.
But it would be foolish to shut our eyes to the few facts
which some of our ornithologists designate as laws. We
may take some of these almost as gospel. We find, for
example that every bird of the northern hemisphere breeds
in its most northern habitat. The “spring running,” then,
is for the propagation of the species. That over, it seems to
be equally certain that the turning south again is for food.

2 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

But here difficulties arise. In many cases the young
migrate first whilst plenty of food remains. They travel, too,
by night and at immense heights. With nobody to lead,
nothing to direct, for even if they could see landmarks they
could not recognize what they have never seen before, how
do they find their way? Here we arrive at mystery almost
at the threshold of our science. We are equally at a loss
when asked to explain why the males of song birds precede
their mates, and we certainly cannot tell why the migratory
instinct should turn to nothingness so fundamental a passion
as love of offspring. Yet so it is. The migrant mother
caught by the autumn instinct whilst still her family cares
are incomplete, forgets everything but the call of the south.
Nest and nestlings go for naught, and the first care of her-
self and her spouse, on returning to their abandoned home
in spring, is to rid the nest of the corpses of her own starved
young! Mystery of mysteries, who shall unravel it?

There are pseudo-scientific pronouncements at which
we can turn heavenwards a very dubious nose: such for ex-
ample as that “All the regular migratory birds are insect
eaters, or nearly so.”” Is the snipe such an one? or the goose?
or the predatory bird which follows north the other
migrants? Perhaps, also, we should count as questionable the
statement that birds always take the same lines in their
travels. For when we turn to consider our own case in
China, it would seem as if the word “line” would have to be
very elastic indeed to include the breadth here covered.
There is a well-known Heligoland line of migration in
Europe, which by and by we may be able fully to account
for. Its breadth is comparatively little. But what are we
to say of the line of spring migration in China which is pro-
bably a thousand miles across? Shall we not inevitably
come to the conclusion that much depends on the configura-
tion of the land? Were there a Himalayan range stretching
from Tibet to Soochow, let us say, then doubtless there
would be a line of migration passing over the coastline of
this neighbourhood. But China has no such range. High-
flying birds probably think nothing of ordinary mountain
obstacles, and even those which keep low find the Chinese
ranges conveniently running more or less in a northerly
direction so that they may be skirted, or else provided with
convenient gaps through which a passage may casily be
found. There are few or no traps in which as in some lands
birds are caught as in a cul de sac.

It must be remembered that according to their nature
birds vary greatly in the manner of their migration. Usually
the autumn migration is taken more leisurely by all. But
even in the spring some kinds move along Ji after Zi, mile

THE MYSTERIES OF MIGRATION. 3

after mile, to-day a little, to-morrow the same, and thus a
warbler from Annam may take weeks to perform the same
journey which a swift would cover, at his 200 miles an hour,
in a single day. Many species also move but short
distances, whilst others cover half a hemisphere, and _ per-
haps more. And with their variety they also make mistakes
at times, or else Dame Nature plays them false. One of the
cocksure bits of dogmatism in “The Royal Natural History”
(Lyddeker) is that no birds hibernate. Now most men who
read their “Field” can remember cases when this subject
has been discussed with evidence which should undoubtedly
bring about at least a Scottish verdict of “Not proven.”
Personally I can remember many years ago watching with
much interest the movements of some swallows hawking
over a Hongkew ice-pond on the first of January! It was a
beautifully bright sunny day. Had these birds migrated at
that time, or were they hibernating somewhere here, and,
bat-like, were awakened by the warmth? Evidently
dogmatism is dangerous under such circumstances. On
another occasion I was accompanied for some time when
snipe-shooting in the early spring by a swallow nearly starv-
ing with cold and hunger. He flew round and round, nearly
touching me as he passed. The weather was bitter for the
time of year, and every self-respecting fly and mosquito was
safely wrapped up in blankets hidden by leaves and blades
of grass. Walking through the marshes IJ disturbed a num-
ber of these which drowsed lazily off only to be snapped up
by my hungry little companion before they had gone a yard.

The movements at present going on in our bird world
affect a very considerable number of the species best known
to us. Most of the ducks, geese, and other water fowl are
going north. They may be seen by day and heard by night,
occasionally even seen when the moon is full, and they fly
across its face. With them go the redwings and, I think,
most other thrushes. The blackbirds do not move away
except for an outing some time in the late summer, coming
back again in October. The wag-tails go, and some of the
bunting tribe. Travellers going home via Siberia may, if
they cross about the end of May or the beginning of June,
see ample proof of the immensity of this “spring running.”
Plain, marsh, field, and forest are alive with birds. Seebohm
in his book on Siberian bird life gives graphic pictures of
the profusion which has now been opened up to the eyes of
all who have money and leisure. Thetrain passes through
various marshy districts and there, from the lordly swan
which sails overhead down to the smallest teal, water fowl
are to be seen. So also are waders, herons, and others. On
the telegraph wires the cuckoo stands and cries. Hawks,

4 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

falcons, and other winged robbers are naturally there under
such circumstances.

But what the China coast loses to the north it makes
up from the south. Cuckoos are coming to us also, and
before long the double cry of the variety which remains here
for the early summer will be heard by night as well as by
day. Numerous warblers are on the way and, though not
specially noted for song, are an addition to the melody of
our country rambles. The Chinese house-holder will be
delighted with the return of his own particular family pet, a
swallow, or martin; the egrets will soon have arrived, and
later on others to which reference must be made in due
course. There is an unceasing movement the whole year
through. It is Nature’s drama set in ever-changing scenery
and with ever-varying music to delight mankind.

ee CL OICERD Do

CHAPTER II.

GEESE.

With the “Spring Running” the sportsman in China
ought for a little while to lay aside his gun. When you come
to think of it he may enjoy shooting through a very large
part of the year. But with the incoming of February no
more field shooting should be indulged in, for pheasants not
infrequently begin nesting during that month. A little later
the spring snipe will have come, and then Nos. 8 and 9 may
come into play once more. Mean(fvhile there is a breathing
space to look up the life history of the migrants one sees.
There are the geese, for instance. (Order, Anseres: Family,
Anatidae: Species, various.) There is a little difficulty some-
times in remembering which is which. But a trick in
mnemonics will fix the colours indelibly, the two black or
dark coloured species both begin with B—the brent and
bernicle geese. All the rest are grey. It was “the grey
goose wing” which feathered all the arrows of Robin Hood
andhas left indeliblemarks on European history. The brents
and bernicles, too, are sea rather than land birds as the
others are. Another distinction is to be found in the shield,
or “nail” as it is called, which protects the tip of the upper
mandible. This is light coloured in all the grey geese, I
believe, except the bean and the swan-goose which have it
black.

For the purpose of identification the following condens-
ed description will suffice. It includes all the geese com-
monly found in these parts.

. Anser Albifrons. The white-fronted goose. Nail
white. Forehead white, hence name. Beak orange. Black
bars across the belly. Wings tinged with green. Length
27 in. Not common in this neighbourhood.

Anser Erythropus. The lesser whitefronted goose.
Nail white. Appearance much as above. Length 24 in.
Very numerous.

Anser Segetum. The bean goose. “Segetum” bears
evidence to the destructive efforts of this bird in the corn-
fields. (Lat. seges, a corn-field.) Nail black. Legs, feet,
and middle of beak, orange. Length, 35 in. Extremely
common in Delta. Breeds far north.

6 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

Anser Cygnoides. The swan-goose. Nail black. Bill
black. Dark stripe down back of neck. Probable ancestor
of common domestic goose in China.

Anser Cinereus. The greylag goose. Nail white or
whitish. Flesh-coloured beak and feet. Wing coverts and
rump slaty grey. Abdomen white. Length 35ins. Probable
ancestor cf European domestic species; supposed by some to
get its name from its habit of “lagging” behind other speciesat
migrating times! But the Double Dorset for “leg” is “lag”,
and the tint of the leg is a greyish pink—a more likely
derivation. Not very numerous here.

Anser nigricans. The Pacific brent goose. An occa-
sional visitor. “Brent” is spelt “brant” in America, and is
referred to “brand” and “brindled.”

A wild-goose chase, notwithstanding the spice of sneer-
ing superiority which the user of the phrase sometimes
tacitly arrogates to himself, is one of the most exciting,
exacting, and at the same time healthful exercises which the
sportsman can undertake. How he may set about it will
best be found in the pages of “With Boat and Gun’, where
Mr. Duncan Glass and others tell the tale once for all. We
may not all have a “Clutha” to take us out to the shooting
ground, but other less lordly means are suggested. I have
spent a comfortable night, when after duck, in the humble
harbour sampan, but that was long ago. Shooting may be
done from the punt, or ashore by dint of stalking, flighting,
or driving. With the first, using a heavy punt gun and a
pound of shot, the biggest bag to one discharge that I ever
heard of was 52 geese got by Sir Charles Ross many years
ago. One has to think of the market when asked to defend
shooting of this sort. Also of the cornfields afore-mentioned,
or the crofter’s little patch.in danger of utter extinction,
and, as I have seen them, of the vast prairie fields of Oregon
and California with (probably) Anser Segetum in hundreds
and thousands at work on them. Of grass, eight geese de-
vour as much as a cow! Bearing these facts in mind “brown-
ing a gaggle’ whenever opportunity occurs is defensible.
Personally I prefer single shots with the smaller weapon.
Then the stalk is the thing. There they are out in the
middle of the open country. Is there any cover? If not,
the old world stratagem of the stalking horse, cow, or buffalo
must be tried. A painted canvas counterfeit presentment of
the last is used sometimes in China, the shooter and his
confederate providing the legs, and working gradually up to
their quarry. But the goose is a wary gentleman notwith-
standing his reputation for stupidity. His sentries are well
posted, and he keeps his weather eye open himself. If the
operation is successful the bag will be all the heavier, but

GEESE. 7

the chances are with the geese. I had a successful stalk
once of more than a mile, being favoured by a conveniently
placed grave-mound. On the Tsungming Island, a paradise
sometimes for wild-fowl, there are embankments and cutt-
ings which are on occasion of great assistance to the gun-.
ner. But at other times it is tantalizing to the last degree
to see thousands of geese, ducks, and sometimes swans
within reach of the binocular without a chance of getting
near any of them. Then comes the temptation to use a rifle
which is so strongly and rightly condemned by Mr. Glass.
Indeed, a time comes to all sportsmen—when the blood has.
had time to cool, and the innate hunting instinct has lost its:
pristine keenness—when there is a new delight in the sport-
ing trip, the delight of seeing, of merely looking at nature in-
her brightest and her best. The flats down by the Beacon
sometimes provide a sight for such a man which quite makes
up for the loss of opportunity for mere killing. A good glass
brings birds within a few yards, and then from the sunny
side of an embankment they may be watched at rest and at
play—a sight worth the journey even if the bag remains
absolutely empty. But that same beautiful day may be the
prelude to a blow, and then will come the chance inland,
perhaps. Rough water outside means opportunities along
the creeks, and a right and left well brought off under
those conditions is far more satisfying to the artistic sense
than the holocaust of an entire gaggle with the punt gun.

Of all sportsmen it is the wild-fowler who must be most
saturated with knowledge of times and seasons, of tides and
winds, of feeding grounds and of resting places. Geese act
with great regularity in most of their movements. If left
alone they feed by day, and only if persecuted take to the
night for safety. It is this regularity which is their ruin if
the fowler is acute enough to discover its variations and
act accordingly. Day by day he needs to study their move-
ments. He watches their stately flight, a thing unique in
nature for majesty of movement, and unexpected grace. He
notes their line to and fro, then, some boisterious evening
perhaps, he reaps his reward in the finest flight shooting
that ever delighted man. I knew of one once who happened
more or less by accident to light upon a spot over which
dusk found gaggle after gaggle passing. So he thanked the
gods and accepted the opportunity. Standing on the bow
of his boat well under cover of a bank, he had a succession
of good sporting chances of which he made the most. One
bird happened to come rather lower than the other and as
it was travelling fast and the well placed charge did its
work with merciful promptitude, the way of the bird to earth
was marked by a trajectory which evidently would bring it

8 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

on the boat. Unluckily the gunner stood right in the way,
and before he could move, a number of foot-pounds, compiled
of the body of a heavy goose and its headlong flight, imping-
ed on his sporting breast and the owner found himself com-
pleting the trajectory by somersaulting backwards into the
water!

Chinese bird life, so our late fellow resident in Shanghai,
Dr. Edkins, tells us somewhere, was not altogether unknown
to Pliny. Since that time a very great amount of known-
ledge has been accummulated, but nothing has done so much
for the exactitude of our knowledge of outer nature as the
use of photography. With the telephoto-lens it is now
possible to transfer to paper wild nature in its true form and
in its natural habitat. In all probability the delight of such
a study will attract many to the life history of birds and
beasts who hitherto have been repulsed by the difficulty of
the language employed and by the no less unattractive
nature of some of the illustrations. In these chats dry
science is according to our understanding eschewed, but its
importance must never be forgotten.

CHAPTER III.

DUCK.

“The wild geese wing o’er the isles their way.” So
says a poet in the Shi King and having seen them go we
may turn to the ducks, many of whom are not in so great a
hurry. Some are even now coming to us from the south.
In all probability the sportsman in this part of the world
sees during the year a hundred times as many ducks as he
does geese, if under the term ducks we place the multitudin-
ous varieties which may bear the name. The province of
Kiangsu is an ideal home for them. ‘Water water, every-
where”, and rarely any ice to speak of. The vast extent of
the Yangtze estuary, the long line of coast stretching round
to the Hangchow Bay, with its immense mudflats, the lake
district about Soochow, culminating in the Tai Hu, whose
waters alone would cover more acres probably than all the
lakes and ponds of England, the vast marshes here and there,
and finally the thousands of miles of creeks, form a paradise
for ducks and water birds generally. No wonder we see
them by the thousand. English sportsmen go across to
Holland for the express purpose of finding similar, though
far less perfect, conditions.

Not being tied by any trammels of logic we may con-
veniently range the ducks most frequently coming into our
ken into the two classes, Divers and Non-divers, or those
who seek food under, and those who find it on or near the
surface of water. The latter are by far the more numerous.
They are all night-feeders, spending the day either at sea or
in some safely secluded spot inland. In the following notes,
the numbers in brackets refer to the usual length of the
adult male given in inches.

We will begin with the mallard, or wild duck proper.
(Anas boschas.) (24) There is nothing in nature more beautiful
in its way than the male of this species. Note his beautifully
curved green head, the ruddy brown of his graceful neck with
its white collar, his blue wing coverts, the crisp curl of his tail
and the general charm of his white plumage, and then say
if you ever saw anything more fitted to adorn the foreground
of a picture of sea and land. He loses all this beauty, by
the way, when family cares come on, but dons it again with

10 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

the approach of winter, as do some others of his kind. Pro-
perly, the word “mallard” is applicable only to the male, anP
is so used in Dorsetshire. To talk of a “mallard-duck,”, as
some people do, is as preposterous as it would be to speak
ofa “stallion mare.” Like her domesticated descendants,
the wild Duck is a good breeder, laying her 10 or 11 eggs
per annum. Wary inthe extreme is she, her nest being
‘carefully hidden, often at some distance from water. Her
young, which for a long while are unable to fly, have then
to run the gauntlet of land foes till they reach the water,
and when there are frequently snapped up by hungry pike,

In this neighbourhood wild ducks spend some seven
months of the year, leaving in April. A few breed in the
neighbourhood. I remember one brood in the Chapoo Creek
in August.

The pintail, or sea pheasant, (Dafila acuta) so called
from the five-inch length of the middle pair of tail feathers,
which make him longer than the mallard (26). In appearance
he will bear comparison with the true wild duck, though his
tints are mainly browns and greys with black pencillings.
He is plentiful in season and is excellent eating, very strong
and rapid in flight, and not easy to kill with on-coming shot
owing to the density of his breast plumage.

The gadwall, (Anas Strepera, or Chaudelasmus streperus),
is a chestnut-headed duck with black and white markings on
the wings (28). It is not one of our common visitors.

The Teal (Querquedela crecca.) (145). A lovely little
bird, very plentiful, and alf too trusting. Nothing but his
lightning rise and rapid flight saves him from far more
terrible decimation than he now suffers. Sometimes, in the
days gone by, almost every pond in the Kashing and Hang-
chow districts held him and the confident gunner went up
ready for his right and left. Only, however, if he had
learnt the knack, for in most cases a griffin discovered that
both first and second barrels were wasted on empty air, the
first under, the second behind, his birds. He is a hungry
little fellow is the teal and like Sairey Gamp likes his
nourishment whenever “dispoged”, by night or day.

The widgeon, (Mareca Penelope) (18). A creamy white
forehead, with chocolate cheeks and neck, together with a
greyish white back and black pencillings are amongst the
distinctive marks of his species. Sir Ralph Payne-Gallwey
once killed, with a charge of 6 oz. of powder and 32 oz. of
shot, no fewer than 148 of them, a form of market provision
which has its advocates and its justification, but which to
me suggests the advisability of writing to the Admiralty to
point out how much more the Dreadnaught might do in the
same line!

DUCK. 11

The shoveller (Spatula clypeata) gets his name from his
broad-tipped bill. By no means a dainty eater, under some
conditions he is said to be very good eating (20). I have
seen one only of this species in the Huangpu.

Of diving ducks we may mention—

The pochard, (Fuligula ferina)and the tufted duck
(F. cristata) neither of which is abundant here. The former
is sometimes knownat home as “The Redheaded Poker”,
from the ruddy chestunt of his cranium. He is difficult of
approach, far more so than his cousin the tufted duck, which
rather trusts to swimming than flying for escape.

Confined to the East, and therefore specially interest-
ing, is the extremely beautiful. Aix galericulata or mandarin
duck, whichaddsto the beauty of its gorgeous purple, green,
white and chestnut colouring an equal beauty in crest and
curl. It perches on trees, and is a model of conjugal love
and fidelity. Another of the pochard family is the Siberian
white-eyed duck (Fuligula baeri), said to be numerous at
times, though scarce as a rule.

Duck-shooting has, of course, an affinity with that which
jays low the goose, but from the greater numbers of species
and individuals, and from the fact that many kinds of ducks
delight in inland waters at times, if not altogether, the or-
dinary China sportsman finds the latter far more often com-
ing to bag than ts the case with the weightier goose. Punt,
decoy, and flight shooting may be had, however, as well as
the haphazard opportunities of the day’s tramp. Two of my
friends once had a spell cf splendid flight shooting from be-
hind the cover of the parapet of a city wall! But I have
never known a China sportsman who has made such a busi-
ness of wildfowling as to go through a season with an aver-
age of 395 birds per shot, a number whieh I find recorded
with some pride by the performer! I hope I never shall. A
fact to be noted is this, that ducks always come into and up
the wind before alighting. If shooting in the moonlight the
gunner will find the birds more clearly defined if he shoots
towards the light. The size of shot used varies all the way
from No. 6 for teal to A, B, and even SSG. Ducks have
always been considered fair sport for everybody. In days
gone by a whole Norfolk village would turn out headed by
the parson and the squire for a spell on the marshes when
the autum flights came in.

Of the mergansers or sawbills, Mr. Wade mentions
three in his book, the goosander, the red-breasted mergan-
ser, and the smew. These, however, are fish-eaters, not
ducks, and the serrations or teeth along the edges of their
manibles make one think of the toothed birds of bygone
epochs. The grebes, too, may be mentioned amongst the

12 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

water birds common in Kiangsu. I once got a crested
variety but was unable to identify it, and another, without the
crest, some distance down the river. Then there is the
dabchick, ubiquitous, interesting, and very much at home.
Go where we will he is sure to be found. Even quite small
creeks afford him food and shelter, and only last Christmas,
when we had two or three cold days and some of the creeks
were frozen, I found him in a creek close to the steps out-
side a village street and, taking care not to alarm him,
watched his proceedings for some minutes. Then on seeing
me, up went his tail, down went his head, and so far as one
could discover he might have dived down to the antipodes,
though there is no doubt he was well within reach watching,
from under a bit of cover close to the bank, the “foreign
devil” who dresses so outrageously and outlandishly as to
frighten innocent little grebes. Having given up long distance
flying apparently, the dabchick seems never to migrate. All
seasons find him in his accustomed haunts equally happy,
and equally at home.

NM SH 685

CHAPTER IV.

SNIPE.

At any time during the last days of March or the first
few of April may be heard the welcome intelligence that
“The snipe have come.” “Snipe,” old English “snite,”’ and
“snout” are the same word, Grimm’s law intervening. Dray-
ton writes of “The witless woodcock, and his neighbour
snite.” It would be hard to tell exactly why the sport-loving
British people have picked out certain birds, the woodcock
and snipe, for instance, for particular attention, to the entire
disregard of so many others. The snipe is very good eating.
it is true, but so are several others of which little is said.
Something must be allowed for the mystery attaching to
them, but probably the chief reason is the difficulty of bring-
ing the common snipe to bag when he is in really good form
and a wee bit wild. Then his movements are of the zig-zag,
“greased lightning” type, and rights and lefts are very, very
rare indeed. A friend of mine once watched an attack by a
hawk on a snipe in mid-air. Two or three times the swoop
was made but each time the snipe’s speed was enough to
save his skin. Again, he is here to-day and gone to-morrow.
He may be seen in wisps or he may not be seen at all.
Essentially he is a bird of the swamp or marsh, not of the
too fluid sort, but of that kind which provides a sufficiently
soft upper crust to suit at once the worms and his delicate
bill. Then, under suitable conditions, he disposes of double
his own weight of these long red delicacies in one day. Im-
agine a 20-stone man eating fifty four-pound loaves, ten legs
of mutton, a picul of potatoes, half a picul of vegetables, and
something over a hundredweight of accessories within the
24 hours! That would be his task were he to try to rival
Scolopax Gallinago, otherwise known as the common, or
full, or whole snipe, and sometimes as the heather-bleater,
from the so-called “drumming” made by his wings or tail in
spring in his efforts to charm his mate. There are many
square miles of the province of Kiangsu which form almost
ideal snipe grounds. So it is in the delta of the Nile, and in
various Indian deltas where a bag of a hundred couple a day
to a single gun may be got at times. Mud, slush, chilly
water, cold winds, wet feet, numbed hands, slipping, sliding,

14 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

missing, and execration may be amongst the accompani-
ments of this fascinating sport. Or it may be enjoyed un-
der the most comfortable of conditions, for the snipe dearly
loves warmth, and even dryness, when the rapid process of
his digestion demands it. Then he will be found on grassy
patches where a bit of cover keeps off the wind but lets in
the sun, and then, too, he is apt to be lazy. :

Mr. Styan (vide “With Boat and Gun”) gives a list of
seven varieties of snipe to be met with in China whilst David
mentions only five. Latham’'s snipe (Gallinago Australis)
does not come so far north as the Yangtze; the solitary
snipe (G. solitaria) is very uncommon; the painted snipe,
(Rhynchea capensis) not a true snipe, is indigenous to the
Yangtze valley though not very plentiful; and the jack snipe
(G. gallinula), which is likewise scarce. That leaves us with
the three plentiful varieties: the common, or as we best know
it, the winter snipe; the pintailed, or lesser spring snipe
(G. stenura); and the great spring snipe, or Swinhoe’s. The
commonest and best method of deciding which is which of
birds so alike in plumage as the varieties of snipe has been
found to be, after consideration of weight, to count the tail
feathers. The heaviest of all snipe is the great or solitary
snipe which runs between 74 and 10 oz. The jack is the
lightest, his dainty little body turning the scale at something
over 2 oz. The common snipe runs from 3 to 8 oz.; Swin-
hoe’s from 6 to 8 oz.

The tail feathers are found as follows: Common, 14;
Solitary, 20; Swinhoe’s, 20; Pin-tailed, 26; Latham’s, 18.
The number of stiff feathers, consisting of little more than
the quill, which give the pintail his name, varies in the diff-
erent species, from 16 out of the 26 in the pintailed, to 4 out
of 18 in Latham’s. But even with such means of identific-
ation it is very difficult for the ordinary sportsman to dis-
tinguish the varieties with any certainty, for the variations
in each species are wide. The pure white belly of the winter
snipe marks him off from the spotted or barred lower parts
of others.

Many an ardent sportsman, however, never cares to
trouble his head about such’ niceties as these. To him a
snipe is a snipe whether Swinhoe, Tatham, or any other man
had the honour to stand sponsor to it. The bird is brought
to bag. Ithas provided for the exercise of the body, the
brain, the hand, and the eye. It has tempted from the desk,
the office, or the study, the man who has secured it, and now
it will provide a further pleasure for him or his friend in
fulfilling its destiny when served up, nicely browned with a
bit of choice bacon over it, at the dinner table. Why bother
over counting tail feathers, or going about with a weighing

SNIPE. 15

machine! Sufficient unto the shot is the sport thereof. But
notwithstanding all this, there is yet a pleasure in store, the
pleasure of reminiscence, the pleasure of recalling incidents
long gone by, of watching from the comfortable depths of a
cosy armchair, and through the curling wreaths of a
Virginian weed, the adventures by marsh and swamp which
memory brings up so vividly. There is the sea-wall just
as you found it ona certain China New Year holiday. On
the land side of it, there is a long stretch of watery waste
never more than a hundred yards wide, but extending out of
sight each way. Snipe are there by the score and they rise
singly, too, the second and the third often being so obliging
as to wait till new cartidges are in, and a move is being made
to pick up the first dropped bird. Then up goes another of
them, and so the bag grows heavier and anticipation keener.
Those which go off as if for good are sure to be found again
half a mile further on. Noon comes with its brilliant sun
and glorious warmth. One is glad to sit on the sunny side
of the wall, count the victims, and their tail feathers if any
doubt arises, and bask awhile. Tomorrow we will have a
repetition of the sport. But, alas, during the night the
inevitable north-wester comes down, and birds which today
would sit and watch you, whilst you stood and watched
them, are now as wild as. March hares. ‘Sca-ape’ they go,
whilst you are yet fifty yards away, and fifty yards
is far too great an allowance to give to a winter snipe.
His fat and lazy friends of autumn and spring, which will
hardly fla out of your way before they go down again, may
be given “law” to a liberal extent, but Scolopax vulgaris
when lively must be attended to at once, if he rises anywhere
near thirty yards. No. 8 is best calculated to bring him to
bag, though I have often found No. 6 in the left barrel use-
ful, especially when something bigger may get up. He is
not half so hard to kill, however, as the golden plover. Cir-
cumstances must decide how he is to be approached, down
wind if lying well, if not, up. When flighting, he offers
the best shooting in the world, if skill be counted, but the
pleasure, taken as it is in the dusk, is fleeting and uncertain.
He is then on business intent, going for the evening meal
which his very healthy digestion makes so necessary, and
generally travelling at express rate. If there is frost and he
is frozen out of his usual haunts, he will come boldly wherever
open water presents. I have recently seen two feeding within
39 ft. of the trams on the Avenue Paul Brunat. I have seen,
in crossing the Rockies, a snipe alight within 20 ft. of a
moving train. In the olden days, before Shanghai had
grown to its present size, the Racecourse was a very favourite
place on which snipe would drop in season, and legend tells

16 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

of a cricketer “out in the country” getting a number of pellets
(intended for winged game) through the most exposed por-
tion of the flannels as he stooped to pick up a ball! Guns
were kept in the cricket pavilion ready for a sudden rush
when a wisp was seen to alight. I have myself shot winter
snipe within 106 yards of the back of the General Hospital,
where they came to the ice-ponds, and one of those unac-
countably popular patches, which snipe will frequent if any
are about, is now covered by part of the Shanghai Railway
Station.

Snipe-shooting needs above all things a well-fitting gun.
I knew a man here who was once asked to try a new weapon
on behalf of a friend. He did so, and when the first ten
snipe were brought to bag with it, one after another without
a miss, he concluded that it would be a very good thing if
the friend bought that gun so that it might be borrowed! A
12-bore is unquestionably best for the ordinary man, though
really first-rate shots do excellently with the lighter 16-bore.
Taken altogether, snipe-shooting is as good a sport as can
be found, and when there are such admirable artists as Thor-
burn and Millais to depict birds for us, and such ardent
lovers of nature as Mr. Selous to write, there is prepared,
for all who care to buy, an indoor delight which ranks only
second to that beneath the vault of Heaven’s blue.

CHAPTER V.

WOODCOCK.

If our knowledge of the snipe can hardly be called com-
plete, it must be acknowledged that our acquaintance with
the woodcock is still less so, and this in spite of the many
pages of print to which this favourite bird has given rise.
Within the last few weeks, (March 1910,) Mr. Ogilvie Grant
writes to the Ornithological Club respecting some obser-
vations which he has just made. He refers to the resemblance
between woodcock males and females. Only a post-mortem
examination, he says, can distinguish the one from the other.
Then he proceeds to tell of his experience in the Azores
where his examination discovered males in the proportion
of ten to one female, a fact I have seen hinted at nowhere
else. And after various other statements he asks whether
it is possible that the woodcock is polyandrous and, if so,
whether this accounts for the fact that in various parts of the
world young woodcock are found at all stages of development
through all the warm months of the year. Is it the male
which brings up the young whilst the mother is continuously
laying? If so, the object of the protective colouring of both
sexes is evident. Another fact which Mr. Grant vouches for
will be a surprise to many, and that is that numbers of
woodcock breed in the Azores. The usual idea is that their
nesting places are much farther north.

I have referred to this matter at so much length in order
to show how very much we still have to learn of this interest-
ing bird, and how eagerly new discoveries respecting it will
be accepted by the bird-loving world.

Scolopax Rusticola, as the woodcock is called scientific-
ally, provides, perhaps, one of the finest examples of protec-
tive colouring that Nature has ever made. So perfect is it
that its owner is usually quite justified in his perfect faith in
its hiding powers. Even when wounded he disdains to run,
but squats in the nearest bit of cover. His bright eye, how-
ever fitted for the night work to which he puts it, is sometimes
his betrayer. Occasionally, too, Nature plays him the trick
she does to many others of her children, and turns him out
an albino, p02 white.

18 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

The female woodcock is larger than the male, and its
wéight varies so widely as to run between eight and twenty-
seven ounces. The former was perhaps a starved specimen,
and the latter one abnormally fat for, like the snipe, the
woodcock is a tremendous glutton, and is soon up and down
in weight. t will, the woodcock can fly either as lazily as
a rail or as swiftly asaswallow. He traverses long distances
across the sea when migrating and is frequently at such times
found taking a rest on coasting steamers running in and out
of Shanghai. The lighthouse keepers, too, find that he has
sometimes provided a dainty change in lighthouse fare by
dashing himself against the lantern during the night. A
Heligoland observer has estimated that migrating birds, when
descending from their immense travelling height on to the
mud-flats there, pass over the last mile at the rate of 240
miles an hour, that is to say, the last mile, which has been
carefully observed, is done in fifteen seconds! Woodcock pair
in February, and in England the nest has been found in
March, though young in all stages of growth are also to be
found in August. Being nocturnal in its habits, the woodcock
is not an easy bird to watch. Hence much of the mystery
surrounding it. Still, a good deal is known, sufficient to
dispel some of the older doubts and set at rest some of the
earlier questions. Three or four form the usual number in
a clutch of woodcock eggs. Whether or no the male helps
in the hatching is, as has been said above. a moot point. One
thing is sure: the young when hatched are carried to their
food and not the food tothem. “The Royal Natural History”
(Lyddeker) says that the young are pressed between thethighs
during this operation, but trustworthy observers have proved
that, however this may be, the parent can take up a young
one in each claw and fly off with them. Mr. Archibald
Thorburn’s picture showing a little woodcock having the
pleasure of a ride in this manner is one of his happiest efforts.

From facts of this sort it might well be supposed that the
character of the woodcock for stupidity is as little deserved
as is that of the goose. In France. a stupid person and a
wo odcock rejoice in the same cognomen, “Grand bee.” “0 this
woodcock! what an ass it is,” says Shakespeare, And yet, the
woodcock, besides showing uncommon intelligence in the
conveyance of its young rather than in the unceasing carrying
of food, is also an accomplished nurse, and can bind up
wounds and even broken limbs with the skill of a practised
surgeon. This is vouched for by M. Fatio of the Geneva
Natural Society. I cannot corroborate it from personal
knowledge of the woodcock, but I can of the snipe, for I once
shot a poor, thin specimen when the weather was very open
and all the rest fat, which had been wounded in the side, the

WOODCOCK. 19

hurt being very skilfully covered with a plaster of congealed
blood and feathery substance nicely smoothed over.

A question of some interest has at times occupied sports-
men and ornithologists. Do the snipe and woodcock hear
or smell their vermicular prey? They cannot of course see it,
for itisinches beneaththesufaceofthe soil. Anyonewhocares
to watch a blackbird hunting for food after ashower of rain can
hardly fail to come to the conclusion that he, at any rate, uses
his ears as well as his eyes when finding food. He gives a hop
or two, and stops: another hop or two, and another stop. Did
he just catch a promising sound a foot or two off to his right
front? It looks like it. Another hop or two in that direction
and then, for two or three seconds, he stands the very incarn-
ation of listening: head to one side, eye cast up, every muscle
still,and the whole body forming a hopeful interrogation-point.
It does not take all this time to decide the question. A second
or two, and the answer comes. If favourable, there is an-.
other hop forward, a confident dig with the beak at a certain
spot in the ground, and out come three or four inches of fresh
food. lf the snipe or the woodcock have any such power of
hearing, we have no definite record of it. What we do know
is that the beak is a mass of nerves admirably adapted for
the most delicate operations of touch, and for the discovery
of worms.

What was said of the liking which snipe show for certain
favourite spots is equally applicable to the woodcock. Inthe
daytime during the winter certain clumps of evergreens
in the Kashing district used to be a certain find if cock were
in the neighbourhood. They are specially fond of holly
for a covering, and they lie very close. Last Christmas a
native gunner with a mongrel dog put one out from a little
grave mound which I had but just passed. I had no dog,
however. The deadly jingal did its work, and a fine bird
went into the bottom of the little boat which carried the sports-
man on his way. I once saw a’cock just about where Mr.
Evans’s book-store now stands in the North Szechuen Road,
and at the proper season have met with them practically all
over the parts of the province usually patronized in shooting
trips. The ’cock provides either extremely easy or extremely
difficult shots. In the open he will at times flap along like
an owl, but when in cover and really alarmed, the way he darts
about amongst the trees is extremely disconcerting. Incold
blustery weather they rather like the comfort of a deep-cut
gully orditch. If flushed from amongst bamboos they usually
afford easy shots.

One ’cock often means many. For though the most
solitary of all birds perhaps, and the most independent so far
as gregarious movements are concerned, yet the instinct to

20 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

travel seems to affect a considerable number at the same time,
and then a flight may last for some hours, the birds dropping
in singly all the time. Similarly they may all disappear at the
same time. There is on record a bag of 102 ’cock shot in
one day by a single gun, and that an old fint-lock. It was
made as the result of a bet by Lord Clermont, County Cavan,
Ireland. He wagered 300 guineas that he would shoot 100
woodcock in a single day on his Irish marshes. Between 2
and 3 p.m. the task was completed with a brace to spare.

He CF BCEAO D>

CHAPTER VI.

ROOKS AND CROWS.

An unobservant person might perhaps go through the
month of February without noticing much activity amongst
the black-coated fraternity on his nearest trees, but he could
not fail to see that, with March, the rooks had given up their
regular morning and evening migration to and from the fields,
and had busied themselves with house-building. April finds
their nests clamorous with young, and, from the first streaks
of auroral light to the last touches of the dying day, parent
birds know hardly a minute’s rest. Then comes the most in-
teresting work of all, the schooling of the young birds in the
art of flight. It does not take long, but is brimful of excite-
ment whilst it lasts. One might almost declare that there is
little less of human than of avian interest in it, for nobody
who has ever taught children to swim, and has watched the
efforts of old rooks with their new-fledged offspring, can fail
to see that the methods, the encouragement, the incentives,
and the gentle pushings on the one side are as characteristic
of the teacher in each case as are the dread, the doubt, and
the hanging back on the part of the taught. The “Oh, I shall
be drowned!” is no more distinct on the part of the timid boy
than is the “I can’t: IJ shall fall,” on that of the young rook.
Then comes a chorus of praise and delight when a few suc-
cessful strokes have been taken, followed by a dawning of con-
fidence on the part of the neophyte, soon to be confirmed so
strongly that the period of teaching is soon atanend. Then
are seen those glorious collective lessons when parents and
young set forth together to learn how to perform manceuvres
in the air which put all human military movements in the
shade by their intricacy, their picturesqueness, and their pre-
cision, and the “free wheeling” part of which some of the crow
family are capable. Following this, Corvus Sinensis, the
common rook of China, appears to take a summer holiday.
The whole family disappears from its usual haunts and re-
mains away usually tilllate in August. Then come re-unions
once more. Flocks of hundreds at a time may be seen on
the Racecourse in Shanghai, and it is my belief that even so
early in their career the young ones have begun to come to
asort of mutual understanding. Engagements are not as

22 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

yet announced, but it ls evident that there is something in the
wind. Still more apparent is it when in the late autumn one
notes that new nest sites are being selected. One puts two
and two together, and next spring makes them four!

Ali this, of course, refers to rooks, not crows. Many
people, even scientists, find it difficult to distinguish between
the different species of the corvine family. David mentions
four varieties in China, Corvus Corax, the raven: Corvus
Sinensis, the Chinese rook, Corvus corone. which we know
at home as the carrion crow, and Corvus Torquatus, that is
the crow with a (white) collar. But other ornithologists
differ in their nomenclature of these and other birds, and
where doctors differ laymen may well be silent. The best of
all distinctions, however. is the fact that whilst rooks are
fond of their own society and that of man, crows are mainly
of a solitary disposition, a pair holding loyally together
whilst life lasts but keeping all others at a distance, except
perhaps their own young during their first year.

Everybody knows of the raven, though few comparat-
ively are intimately acquainted with him. I, personally. have
seen none in Kiangsu, but in and about Peking he seems to
be fairly common. English literature is full of allusions to
him, and the stories of his deeds are endless. The raven in
“Barnaby Rudge” is a familiar friend to all readers of
Dickens. And nobody who knows Edgar Allan Poe is likely
to forget that visitor who came “gently rapping at my
chamber door” and to every question that was addressed to
him answered gravely “Nevermore.” Own cousin to him
in everything but size is C. corone, the crow, but for some
reason or other literary men have neglected the crow. He
figures mainly in old women’s fables and brings luck, good
or ill. according to the number seen together. Sportsmen
and keepers look askance at all the crow tribe. They have
reason, for the raven and the crow are undoubtedly able and
willing to do harm in a variety of ways. They kill the young
of other birds, and they are arrant egg stealers. Young
rabbits, and hares. lambs, and even sickly adult sheep and
deer sometimes fall a prey, for the vaven has the intelligence
to know how to organize combined attacks. The consequence
is that the “Keeper's Museum”, generally the side of some
wooden outhouse or barn, is kept pretty full of the hanging
bodies of the corvine tribe. Even the rook, helpful as he
istothe farmer underordinary circumstances, will at times so
far forget himself as to adopt the bad habits of the raven and
the crow. I have seen a golden oriole in hot chase after a
rook ina garden on the Bubbling Well Road, a sure sign
that the “sooty varmint” had been foraging near the yellow
bird’s nest. Only a few days ago there was much unac-

ROOKS AND CROWS, 23

customed clamour from a pair of my blackbird friends. On
looking for the reason, I saw a rook within a few feet being
vigorously attacked. The white-necked crow is especially
a Chinese bird. There are crows of sorts in Siberia having
light-greyish coloured backs and breasts. Their habitat ex-
tends all the way from Vladivostok to Holland during the
warm weather, but they are not the same as our “collared”
bird here. Their feathers are not so white, nor are the birds
themselves so big. The semi-solitary life of Corvus Torquatus
marks him off from the rook, and ranks him with the crow.

In England it is considered good for a rookery to be shot
over every year, just when the young birds have attained their
first full power of flight. The rook rifle is then brought into
play, and a good deal of execution done, always amongst the
young birds, the old ones being allowed to escape scot free.
In China nobody ever thinks of thinning the ranks like this.
The consequence is that rooks increase to such an extent as
to become not only a nuisance but a menace to other and
more desirable birds. Shanghai, where thirty years ago there
were so few that they were actually permitted to nest on the
Bund, is now over-run with then, so much so that in some
parts of the Settlement the footpath has to be avoided for
sufficient, if not good, reasons. The day has gone when the
life history of a pair of rooks was recorded in frequent para-
graphs in the daily paper.

Dr. Romanes, in his delightful book on “Animal Intelli-
gence” tells several excellent stories of the general intelligence
of the crow family. In one of these we see a dog which has
secured a piece of meat that is greatly desired by some crows
near by. They approach in skirmishing order. There is a
growl and a dash and off they go. Only to return, how-
ever. The tactician of the party has matured his plan. Two
or three approach from the front, whilst one gets still nearer
from the rear. This one manages to get in a most vicious
dig on the dog’s tail, and is instantly chased in consequence.
Then comes the psychological moment. The others dash in,
seize the meat conjointly and bear it off in triumph to the
top of a wall where the dog has the pleasure of seeing it eaten.
Any one who has seen the crows of India and Ceylon can
well believe such a story. If ever impudence were sent in-
carnate into this world of ours it is in the body of the Indian
crow. Such arrant thieves are they that it is no uncommon
thing for them to enter rooms and make off with whatever
takes their fancy; just as readily will they rob the stall of
the street vendor or the tray of hotel waiter, if there is any-
thing on it that attracts them.

But perhaps the most extraordinary of all the character-
istics of the whole family is the sense of corvine law. In what

a

24 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

code this is laid down is, of course, unknown to us. But it
exists. We have all seen it being applied in its summary
kind whenever nesting is going on, never, be it remembered,
when eggs have arrived. Then nobody is to be molested.
But before that, a theft of twigs from an unfinished nest is
the signal for action by the police. The Supreme Court
comes into view only occasionally, but there are many well
authenticated cases recorded. Perhaps gentlemen of the
corvine bar refer to them when poor unfortunates are brought
up for trial. For trial there is, full, solemn, and complete.
A large assemblage of birds surrounds the offenders. Form-
alities are duly carried out. There is much discussion ap-
parently, and finally verdict is pronounced. If guilty, as
seems to be the usual thing, execution is instant. The con-
victs are set upon, and pecked and beaten to death. The
Bishop of Carlisle tells of the trial of a jackdaw by rooks.
He says, “First Jack made a speech which was answered by
a general cawing of rooks: this subsiding, Jack again took
up the parable, and the rooks in turn replied in chorus.”
Finally he was acquitted and went to his home on Ely Cath-
edral whilst the rooks also went their way.

CuaptTer VII.

THE CROW’S COUSINS.

Many people will perhaps be surprised to learn that
amongst the crow family there are some of the most beautiful
birds in nature. ‘“‘As black as acrow” is popularly supposed
to cover the whole tribe. But that is a mistake which never
ought to outlast life in the nursery. Some of the most de-
lightful birds in China, from a colour point of view, are to be
found amongst the cousins of the rook now so prominent an
object in our avian life. I will return to them directly, but
in the meantime the chough and daw should have that share
of attention which is due to interesting traits rather than to
brilliance of plumage. The Indian crow and his incarnate
mischief have been referred to before. In this respect the
common jackdaw will well bear comparison with his tropical
counterpart. I have known him wild: I have known him
tame. I have seen his tricks when, with one wing clipped, he
hopped and fluttered about the farm-yard, a feathered monarch
of all he surveyed. Was anything lost, especially anything
bright, spoons, brooches, or the like, it was Jacko; and sure
enough when his hoard was found, there was a collection of
missing articles enough to send half a county to gaol. But
all the country people loved Jacko nevertheless. They never
knew that he belongedto the genus Corvus still less that he
had a qualifying adjective, Dauricus or Monedula, but those
of them who were acquainted with the Ingoldsby Legends
knew “The Jackdaw of Rheims” almost by heart, and were
sometimes quite ready to agree with the verdict therein
expressed, that “The devil must be in that little jackdaw.”
When the Cardinal’s ring had disappeared, they knew ina
moment where it had gone to, or rather, who had taken it.
They laughed a half heretical laugh at the declared effect of
the Cardinal’s curse on the thief, whoever he might be. It
would have taken a good deal of real hard cursing to affect
Jacko they thought. But the skill of the description was
enjoyed to the full:—

26 WILD LIFE IN CHINA,

The Monks and the Friars they searched till dawn;
When the Sacristan saw, On crumpled claw,
Come limping a poor little lame jackdaw,
No longer gay, As on yesterday:
His feathers all seemed to be turned the wrong way,
His pinions drooped, he could hardly stand,
His head was as bald as the palm of your hand,
His eye so dim, So wasted each limb,
That heedless of grammar, they all cried “That’s him.”

So of course it was, for “midst the sticks and the straw
was the ring in the nest of that little jackdaw.”

We do not see many jackdaws in Shanghai though there
are plenty of them in the province. So of choughs, which
are usually more abundant nearer the coast line or the mouth
of the Yangtze. Graculus eremita is the red-billed or com-
mon chough. But he is a step farther from the true crows
than the magpie which so often claims attention.

Pica Caudata is the classic name of the common mag-
pie, which seems to be nearly ubiquitous. All over Europe
and Northern Asia he is found. All over China, and in the
Western States of America, but, if I remember rightly, not
in the Eastern. Much of what has been said of the jackdaw
might be told of the magpie. When tamedheisacharming pet,
companionable, talkative, and fullof that knowingness which is
acharacteristic of hisrace. In Englandhe is aconstant mark
for the keeper’s gun and, though a favourite of mine, it must
be admitted rightly, sitice in common with his tribe—for even
when white or pied they are all “tarred with the same brush,”
—he is a dreadful thief, a rank robber, and a pirate of the worst
kind, though, to look at him, you might be tempted to think
him always, what he is only sometimes, the farmer's friend.
He steals the eggs of fowls as well as of small birds, he kills
nestlings, and behaves himself like the China coast pirates
used to do, as perfectly honest when there was no chance of
being anything else. The story of his nesting skill, and
how he once called the other birds together so that they, too,
might learn how to put a roof over their heads, is too well
known to bear repetition. In return for his sport-spoiling
powers he is sometimes called on to provide sport himself.
Magpie catching is one of the most exciting kinds of that old-
world form of the chase—hawking. Magpies in China are
more sociable than those in England, perhaps because there
are so many more of them, but they cannot put up with the
communism of the rook. The magpie isa strict individualist.
No Socialist need hope for welcome in his territory. For
years a single pair ruled the British Consular compound and
the Public Garden in Shanghai with far more severity than
either Consul or Council. No other bird of the kind dared

THE CROW’S COUSINS. 27

show a beak east of the Museum Road or south of the Creek.
Doves they ignored, and the smaller singing birds, sparrows,
etc., were gladly tolerated for the tit-bits they provided.

Common enough in the wooded portions of the Shang-
hai Settlement as well as in all the country round is a very
pretty cousin to the magpie. He is usually called the blue
jay by local sportsmen but he is really a magpie bearing the
descriptive title of the azure-winged (Cyanopica cocki, or
Cyanopolius cyaneus). He is a very charming bird in many
ways. In colour he shows a black, jockey- capped head and
for the rest a delightful combination of grey and blue, wings
and tail especially showing the azure tint. He lives, and
moves and has his being in little parties of eight or ten
perhaps, and is never seen far from trees, though a large
portion of his food is found on the ground. He isa great
chatterer, and it is quite evident that his companions under-
stand every call he gives.

A still more beautiful species of an allied family is the
red-billed blue magpie. He is by far the most beautiful of
all the magpie family with which we are acquainted in this
part of the world. His beak and feet are red: he hasa glossy
black head and neck, with a crest of speckled white, his belly
is white, or whitish grey, his wings blue, and his tail, of which
the two ‘central feathers are nearly twice as long as those of
thecommon magpie, isof barred black and white, all so charm-
ingly combined as to make him a vision of supreme delight.
I shall never forget my first sight of this beautiful creature
in the next province of Chekiang many, many years ago. As
Mr. Styan has said ofhim, he is a noisy bird, fond ofletting his
friends know where he is—there are always. parties of
them, a precaution which in wooded districts may be nec-
essary to prevent straying. The nearest district to Shanghai
where I personaily have met Urocissa Sinensis, as he is called,
is the country between Kashing and Hangchow. There, in the
early ‘seventies’, there used to be a, fairly large stretch of
country very sparsely populated, andinsome parts quite waste.
It hadnot recovered from the despoilment which it received
alternately fromthe Taipings and their Imperialist foes. It was
known to sporting men generally as “The Plain”, and there,
thanks to the semi-jungle of the neighbourhood, wild life
was as plentiful as it was varied. Pheasants by the thousand,
partridges, quail, ducks, teal, snipe and woodcock, deer, and
almost everything else in the form of shootable beast and bird
which Kiangsu provides, wereto be found for the search. Pos-
sibly it was due to the nature of the country at that time that,
once there, one seemed to be in another avian world. Birds
were then seen, and I believe are still sometimes, which are
rarely, if ever, found in the neighbourhood of the Settlement,

28 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

and amongst them was the redbilled magpie of which some
account has now been given.

The true jays—genus Garrulus—are well known in China
though in my own experience uncommon in this neighbour-
hood. A brown variety, a great chatterer when alarmed, is
common enough, but I am not sure whether it is Garrulax
perspicillatus or some other variety. It is frequently known
amongst local sportsmen as the jay thrush, from its size and
the general brown of its covering, though there is no speckled
breast as in the true thrush. Of the common jay (G. gland-
arius) I have not seen any at all in this neighbourhood except
stuffed specimens in the Museum and elsewhere.

CuHaPrer VIII.

SOME SHANGHAI SINGING BIRDS.

Suppose ithad happened that inthe complexity of Nature’s
evolution singing birds had been overlooked, or found im-
possible of development: what adifference it would have made
totheenjoymentof man! Forthoughinthe pursuitof pleasures
far less delightful, far less innocent, and much more costly,
many men do at times forget the charms which have been
provided for them with so liberal a hand, yet there are very
few who are at all times entirely untouched by the melodies
of their gardens and the music of the woods. It is said that
one of the attractions which act so powerfully on Americans
to take them over to their Motherland is the song of the lark.
Thereissomuchaboutitin English poetry,somuchenthusiasm,
so many raptures, that nothing but the reality heard with
one’s own ears can satisfy longings so aroused. It was once
my pleasure to take an Englishman, born in Shanghai, out
into English fields for the first time. The spring was in its
prime, and by and by, of course, up went a lark, up and up,
till only good eyes could follow its form, and good ears the
song which poured from its quivering little throat as from
some marvellous pipe in the very heavens themselves. For-
tunately my friend was able both to see and hear and, during
all the minutes of the celestial solo, he stood spellbound. The
utmost height attained, our songster began his gently curved
descent. We watched him, and listened, all eyes and ears.
At last, when within some 50 or 60 ft. from earth, his wings
were closed, and he fell like a stone till within a yard or so
of the ground, and then his outspread pinions dropped him
like a feather on the sward. There was a deep sigh from my
companion which spoke volumes, but all he said was, “I
would’nt have missed it for worlds!”

I have headed this chapter “Some Shanghai Singing
Birds”, but from my own experience I cannot vouch for the
actual singing presence of the lark, (Alauda arvensis), close
to the Settlement. We have, however, the authority of Mr.

30 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

Teesdale and Mr. H. T. Wade for their song by the sea-wall.
Would that they were common on the Race-course! David
describes five varieties of larks in China and, as has been
said before, the skylark itself is one of our most common
winter birds. Then, however, there is not that compelling
force of love which makes the music of spring and summer.
It would be a most interesting undertaking to enquire on the
equator into the reason why there are no tropical songsters
to compare with our nightingale, lark, thrush, and blackbird.
Bird-lovers are by no means at one respecting the compara-
tive excellence of these four rivals. Many declare the night-
ingale King of all, but those who are as enamoured of the
melody of the thrush reply that this is merely because at night
the nightingale has the whole concert room to himself and
that the surrounding darkness adds mystery as well asbeauty.
Others again give the first place in their affection to the lark.
He alone sings onthe wing. I love them all. But I have
heard thousands of thrushes for one nightingale, for even in
England, Exythacus Luscinia, the sweet singer of the gloom,
is very local in his habitation. Perhaps London may be
said to be the centre of his English habitat. In the north
he is unknown. But the thrush is well-nigh ubiquitous. More
than a dozen varieties are known in China, but these, too,
do not, as a rule, nest in this neighbourhood, and so we
miss their song. There are several specimens in the Museum
which will amply repay a visit. Our most noticable local
representative of the genus Turdus is the blackbird, and
given shelter enough, he is willing to do his very best to fill
the gap. Turdus Merula, Merula Sinensis, Merula Mandarina,
the blackbird, black ousel, or merle—those are a few of the
names from which his friends may take their choice when
they wish—which should be often—to speak of him. I was
not a little surprised a few days ago to find that he has
enemies outside the army of gardeners and fruit growers.
The writer of “Birds of the Norfolk Broads” finds nothing
too severe, too cutting, or too abusive to say of him. Only
one of his many characteristics is praised—his audacity.
But I have a shrewd suspicion that were Mr. Emerson out
here he would tell another tale. Instead of a curse he would
breathe a blessing: his abuse would turn to praise, his detrac-
tion to exultation. For with us the blackbird as a singer
has no rival. Mr. Emerson says he is voracious: all birds
are voracious; their hotter blood ensures a more rapid diges-
tion than ours, and their one great business is to eat. Did
I not the other day make a calculation—which ran into
hundredweights, respecting the amount that would be re-
quired by a heavy man per day, tf he could eat like a snipe?
All birds are alike in this respect, why stigmatize Merula

SOME SHANGHAL SINGING BIRDS. 31

Mandarina as gluttonous? He is interesting to watch even
when eating—so long as they are not our own strawberries
that are disappearing. Even then some people are generous
enough to watch and be content. Listen to Tennyson :—
O Blackbird! sing me something well:
Whilst all the neighbours shoot these round.
I keep smooth plats of fruitful ground,
Where thou may’st warble and dwell.
The espaliers and the standards, all
Are thine: the range of lawn and park,
The unnetted black-hearts ripen dark,
All thine, against the garden wall.

And then the poet goes on to tell of his reward. There
is the golden bill to watch, the silver tongue to hear. Yes,
even in February. So it is here. Watch a blackbird on the
lawn. What a picture he is. Much of his daintiness is due
to his immaculate form. But his pure black, glossy and
smooth, is such a setting as never was for the gold of his bill.
In the early morning, just as the first streaks of dawn lighten
the east he is awake and then song is his first thought. I sup-
pose Madame Merula delights in it. It is certainly for her
benefit that its outpourings are so fulland rich. Varied, too,
are they: more so than is the case in England. With bed-
room windows wide open, it is one of the pleasures of
Shanghai life to lie and listen.

White blackbirds, that is to say, albinos, are not un-
common, and the hen bird here is sometimes so brown as to
suggest that crosses between Merula Mandarina and Merula
Gouldi may have occurred once upon a time, though the
latter, a fine chocolate and golden brown bird is now found
more to the west of us. Space forbids to tell of the black-
bird’s audacity, though many instances might be given. How
it nests, too, is another story, for there are one or two other
songsters yet to be named.

The Hwamei, or the bird of the “Flowery Eyebrows,”
in Chinese, is classically known as Turdus Sinensis or as
Leucodioptron Sinense. The only place where Ihave actually
come across them familiarly is at the Hills. There, especi-
ally on one particular hill, I have heard them repeatedly.
Once I saw a pair in a garden in the very centre of the
Settlement. Personally there is something in the music of
Hwamei which detracts from perfect enjoyment of it, but it
cannot be denied that the song is at once powerful and varied.
It is also in parts very sweet. The Chinese are very fond
of it as a cage bird, as they are also of the lark. They may
be seen at the proper season with the rival birds in cages
placed near, but out of sight of each other, a cloth covering
being used for this purpose. Rivalry then ensures the very
best the birds are capable of, their masters standing by and

32 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

nodding with appreciative smiles as their pets strive their
hardest to outdo each other. Another bird not uncommonly
caged is the myna, or grackle, an Asiatic variety of the
starling family. It cannot be claimed that they excel as
songsters, but their pleasant chatter, especially on sunny
afternoons in winter, when a little band of them hold con-
verse, is quite pleasant to hear. Then there is the local
representative of the hawfinch, a wonderfully pretty bird,
who just now is exhibiting to the full the effect of his little
pipe. His, plumage, however, is prettier than his song. The
local bulbul, so far as I am aware is never taught to talk, and
yet his song is more articulate than that of any birds I know.
It is quite an easy matter to set even English words to what
he says, and I am inclined to think that any one well versed
in the more tone-filled dialects of China could make up quite
a string of sentences uttered by this interesting little bird.
The bulbul is always with us, but, as usual, he is most talk-
ative in spring. Other “songsters of the grove” there are,
but enough have been mentioned to show that though
Shanghai cannot boast a choir like that of England, her
gardens and woods are neither dismal nor dumb.

ee

CHAPTER IX.

HERONS, EGRETS, AND BITTERNS.

Most of the birds hitherto described in these papers
have been well known either in connexion with sport, or
because of their intimate association with man in his fields
or near his dwelling. At present the class now under con-
sideration can offer no such claims. The days have long
since gone by when herons were strictly preserved in Eng-
land for hawking, and a fine of a pound sterling was inflicted
for killing one otherwise. There are still, however, some 300
heronries in the British Isles, and at least one, in Kent, which
is 600 years old. Ardea Cinerea, as the common heron is
technically known, ts a well known bird to country folk in
England. There is a good specimen in the Shanghai Mu-
seum. At his best he stands about 3ft. high, whilst, fully
spread, his wings have a stretch of 6ft, But he is, after all,
little but legs and arms, and weighs not more than about 4
Ib. He has, been known, however, to dispose of 50 fish in a
day, some of them more than nine inches long. Some of his
persecutors know of his power of storage in this particular,
and when he is lazily flapping his great wings homeward
they sometimes give chase and annoy him till he disgorges
one fish after another upon which they in turn feed. Stand-
ing in the open, as the heron may frequently be seen in China,
he looks like a sentinel on guard. Not a motion of head,
body, or feathers can one see, if he is intent on fishing. But
all of a sudden, perhaps, the bent-back head is shot forward
and downward, the curved neck straightens and lengthens
apparently, and the next thing seen is the head withdrawn with
a fish between mandibles. If an eel, it is sometimes thrown
out on dry land where a thrust or two of the terrible beak
effectually stops its wriggling. There is nothing showy
about the heron. Like so many waders he has a good deal
of white on the under parts, but there is a very neat black
and white tie fitting his long shapely neck, blacktopped head
lightened with a white feather or two, black primaries in his
wings, and for the rest, a very unassuming assortment of
greys and slaty blue.

34 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

Nobody thinks of shooting herons in China, except an
occasional specimen for scientific purposes or stuffing. I
experimented on one once for the table, and found it, as I
have found other fish-eating birds, quite palatable when cur-
ried after a sufficiently long hanging. Should any sportsman
bring down a winged heron, he would be well advised to be
careful in his approach to it. The heron’s beak is a weapon
to be respected. Even a game cock is no match for its owner,
and as it has a peculiar propensity for making lightning darts
at the eyes, it should be carefully watched.

Asarule the heron likes a high nesting-place, but in-
stances have been known of heron’s nests on piles of floating
rushes, andevenon the’ground. Agood many years ago I came
upon a heronry in China during the breeding seaon. I have
used the word “heronry” though as a matter of fact there
were only egrets in it. There were perhaps a hundred nests
all told, and I took advantage of the opportunity to examine
a little into the domestic arrangements of the egret tribe.
The nests are mere platforms of sticks, bigger and clumsier
than those of the rook, and not very much hollowed. The
eggs have a very pure tinge of green, and at the time I was
there, there were as yet no young hatched out. The leafy
cover was thick, and after climbing well up and getting well
under it there was a good opportunity for looking down into
several nests, Mrs. Ardea Garzetta, with her pure bridal
white, not being at home. By and by she returned with her
lord and master, he who is possessed of those so-called
“osprey plumes” for which he is so persecuted. At first they
did not see me, and I had an excellent opportunity of watch-
ing them at close quarters. There were others also, of
the yellow plumed variety, no less beautiful. When at
last they detected the intruder there was a terrible commo-
tion. Whatever stands in egret tongue for “Fire, murder,
stop thief, police!” and the like was instantly clamoured forth
and repeated by every member of the community within
hearing. Great was the commotion. Nor did it cease till I
had descended and left the wood. It gave me an excellent
opportunity, however, for noting habits and peculiarities.

What was most striking about it all was the immaculate
purity of the plumage both of males and females. The male,
of course, is the only one to wear the plumes, and he only
during the breeding season, and it was impossible to refrain
from a consideration of the penalty which should be inflicted
on all those who for fashion’s sake do these beautiful
creatures to death when Nature most wishes them to live.
Women know the truth of the matter. It has been published
again and again till ignorance can no longer be a plea. For
such as encourage the destruction of these birds, therefore,

HERONS, EGRETS, AND BITTERNS. 35

should be re-introduced the old punishment of the ducking-
stool, seated in which, feathers, plumes and all, the peccant
dame should be made acquainted with five feet of water in the
nearest and dirtiest horsepond. The merchant who buys from
the collectors should be laid by the heels, or, rather, placed
on the treadmill for six months, whilst the actual collector
would be getting no more than his deserts if he were shot with
as little compunction as he shoots the victims.

There are three or four varieties of the egret family in
China, but as authorities cannot agree as to their classic
names it may be as well to omit these altogether. Besides
the two kinds already mentioned there are two more to be
frequently met in the paddy fields during summer. They
both have a more or less ruddy buff colour on the head and
back, and are quite handsome birds. They may often be
seen sailing over the Shanghai Settlement.

Another kind, the little green heron, is smaller than any
of the foregoing, standing only some ten inches or so in height.
Some of these will at times nest in the trees of Shanghai
gardens if unmolested. A pair might have been seen almost
any summer evening towards dusk fishing, or frog-catching,
in the creeks round the race-course three or four summers
ago.
For bitterns I advise all interested in birds who have not
already done so to go to the Museum, where they will find
some well preserved specimens. A very remarkable bird is
the bitten, Botaurus Stellaris. He is anight feeder,a dweller
in swamps and marshes, skulker midst long grass, rushes,
and reeds, whence he emerges only when forced by Nature
or the sportsman’s dog. How well he is adapted for his life
will be seen ina moment. His buff colour would secure his
being unnoticed in dried reeds or other growth, whilst the
black markings are the exact counterpart of the dark shadows
between stems. They are on a par with the stripes of the
tiger which, as every Anglo-Indian knows, enable that royal
gentleman simply to vanish as soon as he comes to the jungle.
At his full height the bittern stands about 30 inches. But
he has cousins which are considerably smaller than that, and
which are, I think, far more common in this neighbourhood
than he. No reference to the bittern could be complete
which did not speak of his boom. All sorts of curious ex-
planations have been offered respecting this strange sound.
But the truth appears to be that as it is never heard but in
the breeding season it must be referred to that instinct which
leads most males of avian nature to seek to charm their re-
spective mates by the elegant persuasiveness of song. We
have noted the efforts of the lark, the nightingale, the thrush,
and the blackbird in this connexion. The boom of the bittern

36 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

merely adds to the orchestral effect. Nature evidently meant
the bittern to play the big drum. At any rate we hear him
“booming from his sedge shallow” as though he, at least,
believes that his good lady liked to listen.

Bitterns nest on the ground, and lay four eggs so tinted
that they, too, are as little likely to be seen as their parent.
Except when migrating and well under way the bitterns are
slow and awkward flyers, flapping clumsily along with neck
outstretched and legs dangling, as though that was the last
thing they really enjoyed ; and so indeed it would seem. for
they do not rise until forced, trusting, asa quail or a bamboo
partridge will do, to protective covering for effective conceal-
ment. Generally too, their confidence is well-founded. for
the number of bitterns put up is as a rule remarkably small.

et OL OCS AD DO

CHAPTER X.

CUCKOOS.

“O blithe new-comer!” is Wordsworth’s apostrophe to
the Cuckoo. And then he proceeds in charmingly true and
simple verse to characterize the harbinger of spring” in his
more striking traits. There is first of all the fact that one
hears the cuckoo a thousand times, perhaps, without seeing
him:

O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird,
Or but a wandering voice?

And the decision come to ts:

No bird, but an invisible thing,

A voice, a mystery.

To seek thee did I often rove
Through woods and on the green,
And still thou wert a hope, a love:
Still longed for, never seen.

All this is as true of the Chinese cuckoo as of that of
British woods and fields. Cuckoos are, at their proper season,
plentiful in almost all lands. The common cuckoo, (Cuculus
Canorus) is found as nearly all over Asia as it is all over
Europe. David describes six species. In the neighbourhood
of Shanghai he is not so abundant as his cousin (Cuculus
Striatus), whose cry, instead of being one oftwo syllables, more
often contains four, and sounds more like ‘ Kwer-kwer-kwer-
kwo” than the familiar “Koo-koo.” There is another differ-
ence, too, in habits. So far as I can remember, the common
cuckoo in England keeps good hours and goes to sleep with
the sun as well-behaved diurnal birds should. But the local
bird is up at all hours of the night during the warmer weeks
he is here, and may be heard with his fourfold cry almost as
often at midnight as at mid-day.

What is it, besides its connexion with spring, that has
made the cuckoo such an object of interest? There are several
reasons at which we must glance in due course. First and
foremost, doubtless, ts the fact that itis one of the few birds

38 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

which build no nest and do nothing for the support of their
own young. This is, indeed, a wonderfully strange trait,
though one which lack of space prevents our discussing.
Everybody knows that the cuckoo abandons its young to
fostér-parents. The female lays her egg on the ground, and
then taking it in her mouth deposits it in the nest of any
Suitable bird, usually, it is belived, in the nest of the same
kind as she herself was hatched in, for her eggs approach,
in colour and size, those of her foster-mother. These things are
none the less marvellous for being true. Hedge-sparrows, wag-
tails, yellow-hammers, and some others are most frequently
patronized. I have seen young cuckoos in the nests of hedge-
sparrows and wag-tails, and once, though I have not seen such
a fact recorded in any book, I found one in the nest of a robin.

What happens when the young are hatched is known
with great accuracy. The young cuckoo proceeds, before its
eyes are open, to eject all its companions, be they young birds
or unhatched eggs. To aid in this diabolical operation there
isacurious hollow in the back into which its companions are
gradually worked and then shouldered over the edge of the
nest to die beneath! This hollow fills up in twelve days, but
ere that is past the young cuckoo is “monarch of all he
surveys.’ His are all the tit-bits which a pair of very as-
siduous foster-parents can bring, and the consequence is
that he grows at a prodigious rate, and soon surpasses in
size the tiny foster robin, or wagtail. Long before it is fully
fledged, however, its own parents have returned to warmer
climes. An old rhyme, speaking not very correctly, says of
the cuckoo, “In June, he alters his tune: In July he prepares
to fly. And in August, go he must.” As a matter of fact the
adults usually leave about the end of the first week in July.
A strange thing respecting them is that males are far more
numerous than females. There is no pairing therefore, for
the females are polyandrous, as may be observed frequently
by those who watch. It is the male which has the familiar
cry. The sexual call of the female is a gurgle, not loud, but
perfectly effective for its purpose.

The cuckoo is the first bird yet to come before us which
has not the common arrangement of toes, three in front and
one hehind. He. on the contrary, has the picarian foot, like
that of the woodpeckers, with two toes before and two
behind. Cuckoos love to take their stand on some prominent
object, and may be seen in considerable numbers on the tele-
graph wires and posts along the Siberian railway, about the
beginning of June. The first I heard in Shanghai this season
was on the sixth of May. about eight o'clock in the morning.
Since then the wooded gardens in the Western district have
echoed their cries continually.

CUCKOOS. 39

Another old world belief which gave rise to a great deal
of interest in the cuckoo was that in winter it turned into a
sparow-hawk. In days when men trusted their eyes without
the least question, there was some excuse for this belief, for
in colour, shape, size, and flight there is so close a resemblance
that it is said even the very birds are deceived. It is quite
true that they do mob the cuckoo as they will a sparrow-hawk,
but whether for the same reason I venture to entertain some
skepticism. Forit is certain enough that great as is the resem-
blance between the hawk and the cuckoo, no country-bred boy
would be deceived twice. His practised eye would note the
difference, particularly in length of bill; and though the barred
breast and under feathers are nearly identical in the two as
are the length of wing, tail, and the colouring generally, there
is enough variety on which an expert may decide. I am more
inclined to believe that the little birds instinctively recognize
in the cuckoo an enemy of sorts, though not carnivorous.
There are, however, even modern books which perpetuate the
belief in the raptorial tendencies of the cuckoo. A translation
of a French work now in my possession has an illustration of
a cuckoo in the act of killing a golden-crested wren! One has
already been massacred, a second is being held in the claw
on a branch, and a third, which is venturing to remonstrate,
is being threatened in look and tone. As, however, this
particular cuckoo seems to be drawn with three toes in front,
it is not necessary to go further into the matter. Another
work I have tells of a number of cuckoos attacking a late
brood of blackbirds. “They were seen to tear them to pieces,
the gardener actually rescuing one from their grasp. Not
above three or four robbers were heard to ery ‘Cuckoo,’
and then in a sort of hoarse unnatural tone.” Quite so. Pos-
sibly these were sparrow-hawks. This book is dated 1864.
But there is no hint in really modern books that I have seen
at any marauding nature of this sort. The cuckoo lives
mainly on caterpillars, and its beak is not of raptorial form.

Very difficult questions besides these are suggested by
the natural history of the cuckoo. How did the parasitic habit
begin in the first place? Doubtless some advantage was to be
derived from it, but that merely shifts the difficulty from one
point to another. How does it happen that the egg of so large
a bird should be of so small a size as to effectally deceive
those in whose nest it may be placed? Still more strange,
how comes it that the cuckoo’s egg placed in the hedge-
sparrow’s nest is like the hedge-sparrow’s egg, whilst that in
the nest of the wag-tail is like that of the wagtail? We
have to confess ourselves completely nonplussed before such
questions as these. Further care and observation may by
and by throw light on such matters, but at present we are in

40 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

the dark. Then again, the migratory mystery arises. The
parent birds have gone in July. The young remain till late
in August, or September. I shot one once in this province
in October. How do they know that they have to go south?
Who informs them. How do they know which way to go?
The answer usually lies in that blessed word “Instinct.”
which in this case is synonymous with “ Human Ignorance.”
Once more, we cannot tell. Once again, we have to acknow-
ledge ourselves in the presence of a mystery. It stimulates
our interest immensely, and perhaps by and by there will be
no mystery at all. Nature will have given up the secret she has
sojealously guarded allthis time, but till she does this man’s
interest in the cuckoo will continue. He may be the most im-
moral, the most unfeeling and in many ways the most un-
worthy of our respect, but till we have unravelled his secret
he is sure of our regard.

WSS set

CHAPTER NI.

NESTS AND NESTLINGS.

It is impossible at this time of the year for the naturalist
to avoid having his attention diverted to some extent from
birds to their nests. Nor would he wish it otherwise. For
next to the living creature itself there are few things more
interesting than a bird's nest.

“Mark it well, within, without:

No tool had he that wrought, no knife to cut,

No bodkin to insert, no glue to join,

Hits little beak was all—and yet

How nicely finished.”

I am quoting these lines from memory, and I am afraid
incorrectly, but they contain the gist of a meaning which the
bird-lover cannot mistake. Some nests, of course, are the
roughest of the rough. Nature adapts means to the ends. A
pheasant knowing that her little brood will run about with
bits of shell sticking to their backs, and never see their birth-
place again, does not waste time and trouble in the construc-
tion of such an elaborate home as that of the magpie. I have
put a hen pheasant off her nest right out in the open in a
Chinese ploughed field. She had scooped a little hollow, and
scratched together a few bits of dried grass. At the other
end of the scale is the elaborate nest of the weaver bird, and
between the two extremes all sorts and conditions of fibrous,
woolly, clayey and other structures.

It was once my good fortune to see the building of a
Chinese blackbird’s nest (VMeru/a Mandarina) from the very
foundation. Convalescent at the time, my waking hours
were being spent on a long chair on the verandah. With great
good fortune, for me, a hen blackbird chose that period to
build her nest within about six yards’ distance. An English-
man who has never left his own country would at once jump
to the conclusion that I was on the ground floor and neara
hedge, for the English blackbird rarely, if ever, chooses any
site for nesting that is not in bush or on the dry side of a bank
out of which a hedge grows. But as we have few bushes and
no hedges to speak of in China, the blackbird nests on trees
and adapts itself to the differing conditions. In this case an

42 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

almost horizontal branch was selected at the spot where there
was a bifurcation, as there is where two of our fingers spring
from the body of the hand. Now, as the blackbird’s nest is of
the shape of a finger-bowl, and as China winds are sometimes
extremely violent, it is plainthat such nests would, if they were
formed exactly like the nests in England, be very liable to be
blown away. But here comes inthat natural adaptability which
has already been mentioned. Madame Merula in this case laid
a foundation of wet mud, probably selected for its special ad-
hesiveness. This she pressed down into the roughnesses of
the bark with her breast and wings, getting into a dreadfully
dirty state by so doing. Her next move was to bring long strips
of fibrous material, grass, straw, and what not. These were
likewise pressed into the foundation before that had time to
dry. Then more and more of mud and fibre. All this was
foundation. And whilst it dries, gentle reader, and mayhap
modern engineer, will you be good enough to tell me the
difference in principle between this work of the blackbird and
that which you are now priding yourself upon, and which the
world is acclaiming as something quite new and wonderful—
reinforced concrete! I could not do so myself. All that I
know about it is what I have told you, and this besides, that
the nest was finished, that it stood the test of more than one
half gale, and that the family of four were duly hatched and
brought up. Just now, I could tell you where there are two
others, one in a similar position, the other in a more cupshaped
fork. Once they give their confidence, blackbirds give it
freely and completely. One of the present year nests is
within a few feet of the heads of hundreds of passers-by every
day. I know of a hawfinch’s nest in an exactly similar
position. “Country Life” the other day gave a photograph of
a hen blackbird getting on her nest next to a clock on a man-
tlepiece. She had been tamed, but had the freedom of the
neighbourhood to do as she chose.

Doves, too, in Shanghai, now that they have become
accustomed to being left alone, will nest in places where
passengers might almost touch them, and it is strange how
thousands of people go by, day after day, and are so blind as
not to see what is within reach. The dove makes no pretence
of building anything elaborate. She never has more than
two young at a time, often only one, and as these are as quiet
and sedate in manner as those of the pheasant and partridge
are the reverse, she need be under no alarm for fear they
will fall out. In the south of England the country people
used to read into the dove’s song these words :-—

Coo-coo: Coo-coo:

Put two sticks across,

And that'll do:

NESTS AND NESTLINGS. 43

which, of course had reference to the slightness of the frame-
work of her nest.

Of absolutely solid structure in nests one of the best
examples is that of the house martin or of the swallow. Many
a house in China may be seen with its little wooden platform
near the ceiling, placed there on purpose to form the basis
of a martin’s nest, the birds belonging to the family as much
as the children do. Very pretty, and highly suggestive of the
gentler side of Chinese nature, is this. The nest of the edible
swallow, as we sometimes find the edible nest of Collocalia
fuciphaga referred to, is formed mainly of gelatinous matter
in the form of a very small and shallow saucer, but so far as
I know these are all tropical.

But the man who hopes to make himself acquainted with
all the varieties and variations in nest formation has a life’s
task. Wecan but glance at a few. Our local bulbul, for
example, shows us that the selection of material is a matter
of great importance to some birds. Nothing but the fibres
of our ordinary fan palm, those fibres which the Chinese
sometimes use for rain coats, will satisfy her fastidious taste.
No straw, no leaves, nothing but this brown coloured fibrous
matter, frequently chosen doubtless to render the nest incon-
spicuous on the background selected for it. Another, ina
different position, had similar fine kind of fibre, but of a lighter
colour, and made of ordinary vegetable matter. The shrike
takes rougher material for the outside, but likes something
softer within. One of the reed-warblers builds its nest entirely
of the long leaves of reeds wound round and round and in and
out, the interior being very comfortable indeed. The long-
tailed tit makes perhaps the most delicate structure of all our
ordinary birds. It is a round mass of soft woolly fibres,
shaped like that of the English wren, witha hole for entrance
high up on one side. In not a few cases the outside is
covered more or less with bits of rock lichen, light in colour.
The tailor-bird actually sews leaves together to form a
pendent receptacle in which the cosiest of homes is made
for the little Sylvia sutorius. There is a specimen nest in
the Shanghai Museum, but that is probably from the far
south, perhaps from India. There is also a beautifully made
nest of a weaver-bird, probably from Africa.

But our own gardens will supply a nest only one or two
degrees less interesting than these, the nest of the golden
oriole, for whilst the great majority of nests have a foundation
more or less solid, the oriole frequently dispenses with the
foundation altogether and hangs its nest to a branch, or
more often, two or three close together. For a bird this
arrangement is highly ingenious. Naturally the material
required differs widely from that needed for nests with a

+4 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

solid support below. And this is the reason why the oriole
may be seen diligently searching amongst the trees for fibrous
matter which will bear the strain. Once found, its strength
is tested fibre by fibre, for none is picked off the ground
apparently, but is tugged off from the bark of such trees as
the Chinese plane. 1 have watched a pair busy at this work,
and coming back again and again to a spot where evidently
they had discovered exactly what they required. Hard work
it was, too. With this fibrous material the pendent nest is
formed. The oriole is a sort of cousin, more than once re-
moved, of the thrush and blackbird, and being of about the
same size makes a nest of roughly the same capacity. The
shape too is the same, but its pendent condition and fibrous
nature make a wide difference.

A few birds nest in the earth. Here and there a member
of the duck family will deposit her eggs in the burrow of a
rabbit or some such animal. The burrowing owls of America
share their burrows with rattlesnakes; the sand-martin scoops
out for itself a hole in the perpendicular side of a sandy
bank, but we have none of these in our immediate neigh-
bourhood. The ordinary kingfishers are our most common
ground-nesting birds, with perhaps one or two other species
which visit us in the breeding season. These make use of a
hole in the bank of a creek or brook, and droppings sometimes
tell of its whereabouts, which might not otherwise be discover-
ed. In the very complete collection of nests at South Ken-
sington there is about a cubic yard of solid earth taken from
the ground and placed in a glass case. On one side is the
entrance to a kingfisher’s nest, and on the other side the
extreme back of the hole is seen showing the nest itself.

Just now, fledged nestlings are to be frequently met
with in the country. Young magpies, rooks, blackbirds, and
others are being given their final lessons in self-support.
One trait they have whichis very human. They know better
than their parents. Three or four times lately a brood of
young blackbirds have allowed me to come within easy
killing distance had I been murderously inclined, and that
notwithstanding all that their mother and father were saying.
These were flying round in a great state of excitement. “Fly,
Ohfiy,” they were screaming, “here’s one of the ogres that will
eat vou up. Fly, Ohfly! you'll be killed! Fly, Oh fly !!” And then,
as the youngsters refused to budge, though they were quite
capable of flying well enough, the old birds would do their
utmost to attract attention from their self-willed offspring,
who, judging from their actions were evidently saying to
themselves, “There they are again, those foolish parents
of ours. Why will they keep on doing these things? No
harm has ever come to us yet and we don't believe it ever

NESTS AND NESTLINGS. 45

will. Anyhow we'll wait and see!” And they did wait, so
long that they might have been shot or even knocked down
with a stone. But youth is always cocksure. On the other
hand man’s behaviour is, alas! rightly measured by the dread
his presence evokes. Not altogether flattering to us, is it?
I find myself, in this connexion, placed on exactly the same
level as a cat! ;

CHAPTER XII.

FLYCATCHERS.

If there is any family of birds which specially belongs
to the summer it must be acknowledged to be that family
which depends entirely on flies and other insects of the kind
for food. My earliest recollections of birds are largely filled
with a little brown-backed, breast-speckled thing, which loved
a stooping branch of an apple tree in the orchard, and year
by year built in a hole in the stable wall. Coming only when
the weather had really set in warm, somewhere about the
end of May, he was always to be found somewhere close by,.
no swallow truer to the old home. It is with little less plea-
sure one finds his representative in China.

Muscicapa griseola, the grey or common flycatcher, he
is usually called. There is no show about him. Built strictly
for “business”, all frippery seems alien to his nature. He
loves the neighbourhood of trees, and it is usually in or near
their shade that his stand is taken. I have been watching
one recently. A little glade affords him his most-loved hunting-
place, and when there he is the avian embodiment of alertness.
If generals could instil into scouts, vedettes, and sentries a
tithe of the watchfulness which he shows there could be no
such thing as surprise in war. Nothing escapes the watchful
eye of the flycatcher, and woe betide any unlucky fly that
buzzes into his immediate neighbourhood. A lightning glance
of the eye, an equally rapid turn of the body, if that be
necessary, a dart through the air, a snap of the mandibles
as if a small steel-trap had come to, and the few short hours
of the poor fly are ended. The grey flycatcher has one trait,
which he shares with the kingfisher, his tolerance of the pres-
ence of man when watching for his prey. Most birds have
a strong dislike to being watched. If you want to see what
they are doing, and they know you are there, you must pre-
tend to be occupied in watching something else at a distance,
and then you can attain the object of your desire, only out of
the corner of your eye. Then neither birds nor rabbits seem to
mind. But “We hate being stared at”, might be as common
a saying in bird-language as it is amongst ourselves. To the
flycatcher, if there should happen to be a cold spell after he
has arrived, man is sometimes extremely useful, for by his

FLYCATCHERS. 47

movements amongst the garden plants or the grass and trees
of the orchard, he may disturb the torpid flies and so provide
the catcher with a dinner. For the common flycatcher, be
it remembered, is a thorough sport. Like his bigger hunting
friends, the eagles and falcons, he scorns to take any food
except on the wing. Many other insect-eating birds will hunt
round amongst the grass, the bark of trees, or other hiding
places for their prey. M. Griseola is above that. “On the
wing, or not at all” is equally his and the swallow’s motto.

The pied flycatcher is rare in England, and is, I think,
equally so in China. I have never seen one. The most attractive
of the flycatchers with which J am acquainted, in this part
of the world, is best known by his English name, Ince’s
Paradise flycatcher. Authorities differ as to his classical
title, some calling him Tchitrea Incei, others Terpsiphone
Paradisi. The very word “Paradise” suggests something
out of the common in the way of adornment, and the bird
we have now under notice has it. His head is of a dark cobalt
blue, with a kind of metallic lustre which in certain lights
turns to a green tinge. He has a crest of feathers, not
very pronounced, but quite an ornament when seen at their
best. Then comes a peculiarity: the rest of his body may be
either mainly white or mainly a very warm chocolate so
ruddy as to shine in the sun and make of him a very conspic-
uous object indeed when in full view. If white, there are
black feathers here and there by way of contrast. The female
has the same blue head, but her body is always of the ruddy
chocolate hue. There is a marked difference, however, be-
tween her tail and that of her lord. Hers is comparatively
short; his, in addition to the feathers found in hers, has two
central feathers which trail behind to a length of perhaps ten
or twelve inches. There is no stiffness about them. They
are, as a matter of fact, quite slender and drooping, and their
passage through the air shows a quivering waviness that
might be expected under such circumstances. I am careful
to note this, because in an old book of birds inmy possession
there is an engraving of the Paradise flycatcher which
presents the two long feathers as if they were stiff as wires
andcapable of standing out in a perfectly straight line for their
entire length. We owe a debt to those old engravers which,
luckily for them, we can never pay. The audacity they must
have possessed would have been of the utmost value used in
a good cause but, when employed to disseminate imaginary
impressions. utterly false to nature and to fact, the result
has not been happy. We may place in the same category the
artist who drew the Paradise flycatcher with the wiry tail
and him who filled the native city of Shanghai with hills and
mountains.

48 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

Half an hour’s watching of the Ince bird will suffice to
prove that its tail, in keeping with the rest of its body, is a
miracle of lightness. There are a good many of these birds
nowadays in the Shanghai gardens of the western district,
and in the country, wherever there is tree-cover enough, they
may be seen. Indeed they have an extremely wide range,
some occasionally getting into England. They are keen
hunters. Sometimes they take their prey in the air, but at
other times are not above picking a fly off the bark of a tree
or pursuing it amongst the leafy branches. For this reason
they care less for an open space than the common flycatcher
does, although for them, too, a too-thick cover is useless.
The reader who wishes to make the acquaintance of this
fairy-like little creature should find a neighbourhood where.
trees are plentiful. Bamboos will do, as at the hills. And
then, having the good fortune to discover a rendezvous, get
quietly under cover and watch. He will be amply rewarded
for the time spent. For his surroundings of themselves are
delightful—the freshness of the new-clad woods, the bright-
ness of the sun, the sense of growing life everywhere dis-
cernible, are in themselves charms to lighten gloom itself.
Then the birds come, not merely those we are looking for,
but many others, one after another in ceaseless succession,
some curious at the strange presence they detect, and will-
ing to make his closer acquaintance if he will but be still,
others resentful of the intrusion, and desirous by warning
cries to give notice to all within call to look out. When our
flycatchers do come, we are naturally all eves. How light
they are! We have never seen one weighed, but we should
think that one or two ounces at the most would be shown on
the scale, and so we understand how it is that the male bird
in particwar seems rather to flit than to fly. Not but what
he can dart rapidly enough on his prey when necessary, but
in general his movements are of rather a fluttering nature.
If in his white plumage he is far more easily marked, but he
is not more beautiful than in the ruddy chestnut. In and
out of the bamboos and tree trunks he goes, a thing of joy
in life, and of delight to the beholder. We want to “know a
good deal more about his strange change of colour, for it is
certain that there are both white and chestunt males that
are equally mature. David tells of a long protracted fight
between two 8uch, which ended in a victory for the white.
We will not think of dogmatizing on the matter, therefore,
but will wait patiently for further | knowledge.

Another beautiful little bird of the fly catcher tribe is
sometimes known as the Narcissus fly catcher. He is about
the size of a robin, but is clad in a gorgeous robe of black
and gold, the yellow predominating. Whether or no he is

FLYCATCHERS. 49

the same as is described by David under the title Xanthopygia
Narcissus, 1 cannot say, but I am inclined to think that the
two are distinct. Xanthopygia has more black about it than
a golden oriole, whilst the bird which I understand to be the
Narcissus is far more purely yellow. They are, however, of
about the same size, and as Xunthopygia is confined in this
part of the world to the coast districts, it may be that they
are mere varieties of the same species, or the same bird in
different suits. In either case there are few things in nature
which dare claim a greater daintiness. Another claimant
to admiration may perhaps be mentioned here, a little bird
of an allied group, Erythrosterna albicilla, a robin-like little
fellow who, though not a fly-falcon like the grey flycatcher
is still a hunter of insects. I have seen him but once this
year in Shanghai. In form he looks so much like the English
robin as to lead the uninitiated to dub him robin at once.
The recognition is helped by a dash of red and orange on the
upper chest and throat, and altogether the little fellow is a
most interesting addition to our gardens. But apparently
he is shy, and not very common. On the one occasion when
I saw him, I was fortunately in possession of a binocular, and
so studied him thoroughly without his feeling alarmed. Like
his Paradise cousin he searches the branches and twigs if he
does not succeed in his winged attack. Possibly during the
summer there may be opportunities of making his closer
acquaintance. It may be, however, that he was merely passing
through on his way farther north. Then the most we can hope
for isa glimpse of him when he goes back again. Insize and
shape he is a reproduction of the winter robin blue-tail.

SEE

CHAPTER XIII.

THE KINGFISHERS.

Those past-masters in the art of beautiful literary inven-
tion, the ancient Greeks, could not fail to seize upon so radiant
a creation as the kingfisher to make of it the inspiration of
a charming romance. It is to this exceptional readiness of
theirs to grasp the essentials of beauty that we are indebted
for all those marvellous myths which have come down to us
as a never-ending legacy of symmetry and joy. The story of
Alcyone or Halcyone and Ceyx is one of these. Ceyx, the
husband, is drowned when on his way to consult an oracle.
Halcyone, informed by the gods of his fate, throws herself
into the sea. Such affection is rewarded by a reincarnation
in the form of a pair of Halcyons or kingfishers. Then the
story proceeds, with a blissful ignorance of the true facts of
natural history, to tell how the halcyons made their nest on the
water during the seven days before the winter solstice and
the seven after, how during that time, owing to the interven-
tion of the higher powers, there ruled the “Halcyon days,”
the dies halcyonii, during which the birds could hatch out
their floating young in perfect safety. That the kingfisher
nests in the ground, that it nests in the spring, and it has
nothing whatever to do with calm weather may affect our
faith in the exactitude of the old Greek writers, but does not
lesson our appreciation of their literary charm. And besides,
there are halcyon days still in store.

Let us take a summer evening’s walk anywhere into the
country from Shanghai, away from “the madding, crowd.”
There along the quiet banks of one or other of the creeks we
are sure to come upon the common kingfisher, Alcedo Ben-
galensis, as some writers call him, Alcedo Ispida ashe is
more generally known in Europe. The first sign of his pre-
sence will probably come from his sharp little cry as he starts
from some twig on which within a few feet of the would-be
observer he had sat unseen. That little fact marks the won-
derful manner in which Nature has arranged that her most
gorgeous colours shall so mingle with their surroundings as
to be unnoticed. But having seen our little friend go, we
may, perhaps, see him alight again, and then if our tactics
are those of an old campaigner, there should be little diffi-

THE KINGFISHERS. 51

culty in getting close enough to have a good view, especially
if the pocket carries a handy little binocular. The king-
fisher is very willing to be friendly. The Chinese catch him
for the sake of certain feathers with which they adorn some
of their most lovely jewellery, but they have the conscience
to let him go again after their rape of the painted plumes.
So there he sits. If possible, you should take up such a
position as will command the surface of the water he is watch-
ing. Then patience is usually rewarded by the sight of a
dive, quite out of sight under the water, and an emergence
with a little fish wriggling transversely in the beak. The
finny prey, if small, is usually turned into position without
more ado, and disappears head first into its living tomb. Some-
times a whack or two on the branch are the preliminaries.
Someobservers declare that the kingfisher “not unfrequently”
misses his aim. This may be so where water is running
rapidly, but my experience on Chinese creeks is different. I
havenever yet seen a miss, though I have seen many successes.

But the most delightful of all ways of watching the
kingfisher is to get into a small punt or canoe which you
managealone. Paddle along the creeks in the neighbourhood
of the Hills for instance, and as a setting for your bird studies
there will be found enough natural beauty to saturate the
most receptive worshipper. You may then sit within a few
feet of the little fisherman whom the French admire under
the name Martin-pécheur. You may scan over all the chro-
matic notes in his lovely livery: the greenish blue of his little
crown, with its border of dusky black: the brilliant back which
makes of him a streak of cobalt blue as he darts through the
air; the bit of rufous orange near the eye and ear; the light-
blue cheeks barred with black; and when he hops round as
he will do at times, the buff-white throat with a patch of
blue-green on the upper breast, and all the rest of the under
surface a rich reddish-orange. You must see all this in life,
and at close quarters, if you wish to drink to the full the
beauty of almost miraculous admixture of cerulean aqua-
marine erubescence.

You may goto the R.A. S. Museum. There are kingfishers
there, a fairly wide collection. But do not hope for the full
radiance J have just described. If you do, disappointment
is certain and, what affects me more, very probable doubt of
my veracity. Kingfishers, in common with most, probably
all, birds, lose their radiance very soon after life is gone—an
excellent reason for not killing them unless with strong
reason. Buta visit to the Museum will at least do some-
thing to open the eyes of the bird-lover to the varieties of king-
fishers found in China. There isa very faded specimen of the
ruddy kingfisher, from Shaweishan. He is about the size

52 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

of a bulbul or a small thrush, and so considerably bigger than
his little common cousin. There is the still bigger black-
capped kingfisher (Halcyon Pileatus.) His back is of a
much darker blue than most. Near him is a white-breasted
specimen from Fukien, which province would seem to bea
very Paradise of varying species. His back is light blue,
but he has much more of a ruddy colour than the rest.
Technically, he is known as H. Smyrnensis. Of the Ceryle
branch of the genus there are the eastern pied kingfisher,
a specimen coming from Fukien, and the great spotted
kingfisher, with its fine crest, shot near Maychee. This is.
areally magnificent bird, albeit its colouring is confined
almost entirely to black, white, and grey. The Great Artist
is ever capable of the most striking and harmonious com-
binations ofthe simplestelements. Ihave seen Ceryle Lugubris,
as this species is called, along the banks of streams amongst
the mountains of the province of Chekiang. When the
reader, familiar only with our tiny little creek frequenter, is
told that this great spotted bird is as big as awell-grown
rook and has a bill in proportion he will be prepared fora
kingfisher which otherwise might surprise him. The pied
variety, also, I think I have seen during travels in Chekiang,
but cannot speak with certainty.

There are other birds of kingfisher type which visit this
neighbourhood. As recently as last Easter (1910) during a
short holiday at the Hills I saw one quite new to me. It
wasabout the size of the white-breasted variety, say roughly
that of a small dove. On its first appearance it suprised me
by hovering for a moment over a paddy field in course of
preparation for rice, and then making a dart down on some-
thing on the bank lying between two fields. Thence it return-
ed to the branch of an adjoining tree, whence it soon disap-
peared, not to be seen again till next day, when it darted
past with allthespeed,andapart ofthe green streak, of Alcedo
Isbida. So far as could be made out, its colours were a dark
cap on the head, a white throat, a coral-red beak, a back of
the greenish-blue so well known, though perhaps a shade
darker, and a rufous tinge covering the lower part of the
breast and the ventral quarters. But the distinctive marking,
that which makes of the bird a complete stranger to me so
far, were splashes of white on the upper side of the dark-
blue wings, not unlike those of the myna. Altogether the
bird is of considerable beauty, and it is to be hoped that ere
long there may be a specimen in the Museum for purposes
of study. Its behaviour over the paddy field, together with
what was seen of it over the creeks, would seem to mark
the new-comer as one of those which do not confine them-
selves entirely to a fish diet.

THE KINGFISHERS. 53

Our little kingfisher probably eats little else than fish.
But his relatives are not so purely piscine in diet. Some
indulge in crabs, some in frogs, some aJmost entirely in
insect food, whilst occasionally one kind at least has been
proved guilty of rank rapacity comparable with that of the
birds of prey. It has been seen to visit the nest of a myna
and to gobble up at least one of the nestlings! Martin pécheur
therefore has reason to blush for some of his kind.

The kingfishers vary even to the extent of having a
different number of toes, the Australian Alcyones having but
three all told. These pedal arrangements may be classed
thus: those with two toes in front and one behind; and the
others, some with two in front and two behind as in the
climbers, others with the more common arragement, three in
front and one behind. Of the Australian kinds that best
known by repute in other portions of the world is the laugh-
ing jackass. Heis a bird of something like a foot anda
half in total length, with a wing of over eight, and a tail of
over six inches. He has much of the greenish blue of his
kind, but is otherwise coloured more largely with brown.

Mention has been made in another place of the nesting
habit of the common kingfisher, but it should be remem-
bered that the family in this respect is by no means accus-
tomed on all occasions to nest near water. Indeed the home
is not infrequently found at a considerable distance from
either stream or pond. It is, however, always in a burrow,,
and seems to be always placed on a platform of fish-bones.

CHAPTER XIV.

ORIOLES AND ROLLERS.

Amongst the most gorgeous of our summer visitors are
the golden orioles. Their family contains allied species,
but as these are less well known to the general public they
may well be left to the student. Knownin Europe as Oriolus
galbula, the golden oriole is variously described by Asiatic
ornithologists as O. Indicus, O. Cochinchinensis, or as O.
Chinensis simply. Fortunately, ugly names cannot affect
either the grace of his form, the glory of his colour, or the
purity of his voice. He comes to us, according as our spring
is early or late, either towards the end of April or the
beginning of May. It was on the 5th May that I first heard
hischeery notes this year. Heloves to make known his presence
in the early morning. For once that you see him you may
hear, him a hundred times for, asa rule, he does not care to
expose himself to the vulgar gaze. In some parts of the
world he is so shy as to avoid situations near the abodes of
man, and it is, perhaps, only because the Chinese are, as a
rule, not given to the persecution of birds, that we are in-
debted for the honour of having the golden oriole in our
shrubberies and gardens. He is a bird of the trees and, so
far as my own personal experience is concerned, I do not
remember ever having seen him on the ground, though in
his search for insects he probably does come down at times.

There is good reason why the oriole keeps to cover as
much as possible. He has enemies to whom his bright yel-
lowtints would betray him easily in the open. The consequence
is that whenever he is seen away from his loved foliage, it is
when crossing from one piece of cover to another. Then
when the sun is shining his passage, if it can be taken in
one short dash, is like the track of a golden meteor, a flash
of aureate light, and nothing more. What is astonishing to
the onlooker, who sees this for the first time, is the utter
absorption of it in the leafage which is its goal. What was
so clearly conspicuous an instant before has vanished! The
tree has swallowed it up. A little experience shows how this
comes about. In the strong lights of tropical and sub-tropical
lands, many leaves reflect a golden tinge which agrees very
closely with the colour of the oriole. Other trees are never

ORIOLES AND ROLLERS. 55

without faded leaves which have turned yellow, and the bird so
plainly visible in the air becomes as one of these the moment
it alights. If in bamboos, their yellow tints are an even
greater concealment. Nature has made no mistake, then, in
clothing the golden oriole. Besides his generally yellow tint,
he has a good deal of black, his wings being largely dark, as
well as his tail except the tip. His beak is of a most beautiful
rose colour. Altogether, seen at his best at close quarters,
as I have seen him a good many times, he is one of the most
artistically arrayed birds that our woods can show. His
mate is but little less dazzling. The bright yellow of his
back changes for a distinct tinge of green on hers, probaby
for protection when sitting.

The nest is sometimes arranged on the fork of a branch
in a way not unlike that of the hawfinch, but at other times
is suspended between the two, only very strong filamentous
tissue being used under such circumstances. The little ones
are as voracious as young birds generally are, and keep
their devoted parents hard at work from day-light to dark,
the debt due them from our tree and garden owners being
commensurate with these labours. On the other hand, when
once fruits are ripe, the orioles, like somany other insect-eaters
insist on having a share. In this, as in some other things,
they are like the thrushes and blackbirds. There is nota
little in the oriole shape to suggest the song-thrush, whilst
in flight there is a distinct resemblance to the undulating
movements of the blackbird when the distance to be covered
is long enough. There is only this to be said of the song of
the oriole: it is clear in tone, it is strong and ringing, and
there is some variation in it. But oriolus cannot claim in
the slightest degree to be a songster, as our local black-
bird can, or as the unrivalled thrush in England may. Both
sexes have a most curious cat-like cry, used perhaps
as an alarm for calling attention to danger. The “scrake-
scrake” of the blue magpie (Urocissa cerulea) is used, I know,
for a like purpose. But the male oriole has a few very re-
gularly uttered phrases which may be transliteratedin various
ways. One of his familiar cries sounds out at intervals, “A
large affair, a large affair’, the words seem to be. Then
comes another, “Chu-chu’ll pay you: Chu-chu’ll pay you,”
often shortened into “Chu-chu’ll pay.” But that which is said
to give the bird its name consists of a succession of six notes,
“Be patient, Oriole”, being their message. From all which it
might be gathered that notwithstanding its constant clothing
of cloth of gold the oriole has friends and acquaintances which
have a difficulty in meeting their obligations!

I take some pleasure in recording the fact that I have
_killed but one oriole. That was many years ago down in a

56 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

part of Hongkew now covered by houses. It was early spring,
before breeding had begun, and the specimen was presented
to the Museum. There is still wanting in many people that
spirit of consideration for bird-life which nature ought to
implant in the minds of all reasoning men, but does not.
Indiscriminate slaughter for business purposes, and even for
the mere gratification of the lust for blood, is still common,
to the disgrace both of human law and human nature.

Another extremely beautiful summer visitant to these
districts. at times, is the oriental roller (EBurystomus orien-
talis.) Here again, I am glad to be able to repeat the boast
just made, for the single roller that ever fell to my gun was
disposed of in the same manner. and was in the Shanghai
Museum for years. He was a glorious example of what
Nature can accomplish with changes rung mainly on one
colour. In his case it was blue. I thought when I picked him
up that I had never seen anything quite so perfect, quite so
chaste, or quite so wonderful in arrangement. He was the
first I had ever seen, and as at no time had he been nearer to
me than the topmost branches of a tall tree, I had no idea of
the miracle of beauty he was to prove to be. His head and
mantle, as well as his tail, were of a rich dark blue, his back
was more of green than blue perhaps, especially in some
lights, purplish blue marked his throat, and a lighter blue the
rest of his under parts. He was nearly afoot long outstretched.

The rollers get their name from a peculiarity in their
flight. Ordinarily, this is something like that of a pigeon, but
they seem to overbalance at times, and then recover them-
selves in a curiously interesting manner. In shape they have
nothing much to. boast of. Their head is somewhat massive
in order to be able to carry the curiously wide opening beak,
which has the characteristics of a hawtinch added to a curved
tip almost raptorial in style, and a transverse width across
the gape as great as total length. This is to be gathered from
the name in the Latin, euwrystomus, which means “wide-
mouthed.” Insect prey, taken usually on the wing, forms the
mainstay of the roller’s food. I am inclined to think that
rollers in this neighbourhood are not very common. But
farther south and in Annam, the Malay Peninsula, and the
Indian Archipelago, they form a group of strikingly beautiful
birds. In voice they are possessed of nothing more musical
than a few monosyallabic sounds rapidly repeated.

In treating of tropical birds the observer cannot fail to
be struck with two characteristic traits, the frequently
astonishing beauty of the plumage, and the no less extra-
ordinary lack of song. Why tropical birds should be beautiful,
one may hazard a guess, but why they should be tuneless, is
a mystery. There is nothing antagonistic in tropical plumage

ORIOLES AND ROLLERS. 57

to Nature’s general design in protective colouring. We have
instanced the complete effacement of the brilliant oriole
amongst the leaves. It is the same with the most gorgeous
creature that flies. It harmonizes with its environment so
completely as to be Jost. But why instead of a nightingale’s
pipe should tropical bird notes be as a rule raucous and
discordant? I am utterly at a loss for a reply.

ebro -

CHAPTER XV.

THE FINCHES.

If the representatives of Wild Life being depicted in
these pages were capable of reading what is said about them,
one might easily imagine that the regular denizens of the
district would be inclined to resent the precedence given to
some of the migrants. “Why should the summer boarders
be more thought of than we who remain the whole year
round?” That is perhaps the form which the query might
take, and as we feel that there is some reason for it, we hasten
to make amends by devoting attention without further loss
of time to some of our feathered friends who cheer us winter
and summer alike. We begin with some of the great finch
family.

The Fringillidae, as they are called, find their home
pretty nearly all over the temperate portions of the northern
hemisphere. There is no English country boy who does not
know the goldfinch, the chaffinch, the green and brown linnets,
the bullfinch, the brambling, the buntings including the fanmil-
iar yellow-hammer, to say nothing of the commonest of all,
the sparrows. All these are members of the finch family,
and hence, judging from the British specimens alone, we
should have to come to the conclusion that in this family we
have avery varied collection indeed, varied in colour, in voice,
in habits, and in general conditions of life. If we went over
to America we should find even wider differences. There is
the well known red cardinal, for example, or Virginian night-
ingale, as he is sometimes called. He, too, isa finch. So is
his still redder brother of Eastern Mexico, and his bigger-
billed but smaller-bodied brother of California. But we must
curb our wandering tendencies, and return to the Far East.

Pére David gives us a description of 38 species under
this head in his invaluable book, so that the finch family is
well represented in China. Only a few of these can hope to
receive detailed attention here. The sparrow, “the avian
rat,” as one of his recent enemies called him, needs scant
description. He is in all places at all times. He speaks for
himself. If he is a shade smaller in China than in England,
as I think is the case, he is also marked ina slightly different
way. The male here is more nearly like his wife. The Eng-

THE FINCHES. 59

lish cocksparrow is a bit of a dandy, whilst his better half is.
a picture of dowdiness. A park-keeper in Washington told
me the English sparrow is extremely aggressive there. He
not only drives away other small birds, but he even makes
combined attacks on squirrels. Here he seems to be content
to hold his own by force of numbers. I have never seen a China
sparrow attack any other kind of bird. I have seen him yield
respectfully to the self-assertive blackbird, but he takes his
place quietly alongside the dove, the bulbul, and even the azure
magpie, when the food spread out for the purpose has been
attractive to them all. Only for his homeliness, for his
attachment to man, and his absolute trustfulness, has the
sparrow any claim on our consideration. There is no
beauty for which to desire him. He has no song, his nest is
a collected heterogeneous proof of his lack of aesthetic taste.
Many people say he does more harm than good, that he must
go, and the sooner the better. They have said the same of
the rat. But both rats and sparrows seem to care very little.

Of the commonest members of the finch family in and
near Shanghai, we have now to consider the hawfinch
(Coccothraustes vulgaris.) He belongs to the grosbeak
group of a sub-family. Only a day or two ago one of these
attractive birds gave me an excellent opportunity for examin-
ing him at close quarters. He was looking for food in a
tree within twenty feet or so, and thus was brought to within
stroking distance by a really good glass. One first notes his
bill, that big, strong, broad-based yellow weapon with which
apparently the hardest of nuts and the biggest of peas could
with equal ease be “negotiated”. It does not project from
the centre of the head, as does that of the warbler family, but
simply continues the curve of the head on the top and, with
a new turn, that of the throat beneath, for all the world as
though the bill were intended as the hardened “cap” toa
soft-nosed projectile. That is his only striking peculiarity.
The rest of him is commonplace enough, but wonderfully
pretty nevertheless. Browns, light and dark, yellows, blue-
blacks, and other tints go to the completion of his artistic
coverture. He shuns rather than courts notice. You will find
him in winter with all his family around him, perhaps with
one or two families combined, for he likes a select company,
and with that is content to forage about trees and gardens,
caring little for the open country. He has a pretty little
song, very pure in intonation, very plaintive and at the same
time soothing. He seems all through the spring to be ad-
dressing his amorous tones to his own lady-love, for every
cadence ends up with “cherie”.

I have had two matronly hawfinches under observation
lately. One was actually over the Bubbling Well Road. She

-60 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

had just selected the site of her nest one day as I was going
past, and as it was not more than twelve or fifteen feet from the
ground, and on a quite conspicuous branch, I took the precau-
tion to pretend not to have seen anything, there being natives
passing along of whom some one or other, would have thought
it the right and proper thing to pull off his strav- sandal and
throw at the little builder. Apparently she was unnoticed,
for her building went on till it was finished, and I hope her
brood was safely brought up. The other was in private
grounds, and being quite 30 ft. from the soil, and on a fairly
slender branch, wassafe from all but winged foes. Some maraud-
ing magpie, some egg-stealing rook, might have come along to
ravish the little home, but I fancy that the combined attack of
sucha pair of beaks as the defenders could bring to bear must
have proved a sufficient deterrent for I never once saw the
parent birdsin chase of any other, and that is one of the best
signs of Jack.of plunderous intent. Madame did not lke
inspection very much at first, though it was done at a dist-
ance of perhaps a hundred feet. Perhaps she felt the eyes
of the binocular on her, and didn’t like being watched, She
would crane her neck well up above the side of the nest to
see what the intruder was doing, and whether his move-
ments, quiet as they were, meant mischief or not. After a
few days, however, she seemed to have made up her mind
that it was all right, that there was no deadliness in the
tubes levelled at her, and so she was content to remain quiet,
and it was possible to imagine that she rather liked the daily
visit during her long incubation. It made a little change for
her. Anyhow, her brood were hatched without harm, and
are now amongst the additions to the rapidly growing birds’
census since the beginning of May, this year.

It might have been mentioned that the ugly classical
name of the hawfinches is derived from “coccos” a berry, and
“thrau6”, to break. Itis thus self-explanatory. The bill of
the sparrow isof the same hawtinch type, as are those of the
bullfinch and greenfinch, though theirs are less heavy. The
little ricebird (Paddaoryzivora) belongstothe family. Another
common member is the brambling (Fringilla montefringilla),
but that, unlike the hawfinch we have been considering, isa
migrant. It goes north during the spring and returns again in
autumn, The canary we have with us always, without per-
haps remembering that he too is a member of the wide-spread-
ing family of the finches. So with the cross-bills, those
peculiarly adapted birds which live on the seeds in fir-cones.
They are well known in Eastern Asia. The cross-bill gave
rise to the legend which “accounts for” it. It was at the time
of the Crucifixion that the catastrophe occurred. Before that
the cross-bill was merely a grosbeak of the ordinary type,

THE FINCHES. 61

but when the Lord of All was fastened to the tree, some of
the birds, more touched than the rest, though all nature
groaned and travailed in its despair, tried to do what they
could to free the Son of Man from his terrible predicament.
Thus it was that the robin got his red breast and, in his
fruitless endeavours to pull out the nails which fastened the
Master to the Cross, the cross-bill got his mandibles so twisted
that they never came straight again! Such is the story.

Wemustnotclosethe chapter, however, without reference
to those humble little cousins to the finches, the buntings.
These number amongst them the hedge-sparrow-like com-
mon bunting which is always flitting along before us in the
winter fields in China, and very much more attractive birds,
such as the yellow-hammer, the Lapland bunting, the snow
bunting, etc. David describes seventeen species, amongst
them Emberiza elegans, a beautiful species known throughout
the East, and to the Chinese under the name Hwang-mei, or
yellow-brows. The far-famed ortolan bunting is a near rela-
tive to the cirl bunting of Central Europe. Both have a good
deal of the yellow-tint so noticeable in the yellow-hammer.
Mostof them migrate, including the Ta-hwang-mei ( E. chrvso-
phrvs) A numerous and most interesting family.

A seston

CuHapTerR NVI.

THE TIT FAMILY.

Two or three days ago Parus Minor, the lesser tit. very
obligingly came before my windows with a mute suggestion
thatthereare other home-stayersamongst the birds of Kiangsu,
besides the finches. “Won't you say some thing about me?”
That, in few words, was the message conveyed. That Mrs. Tit
intended itis more than I can sav. J] have may own theory of
inspiration, however.

In any case. there she was. almost commanding inspec-
tion. Ina dozen pretty ways she courted attention. “See what
I can do, and watch me do it!” That was her invitation, and
then she proceeded with her “turn,” as they would say in the
music hall. She gavea practical exemplification of the art of
findinginsects and caterpillars. She crept along the branches
looking fifty ways at once, and making little darts when-
ever something good caught her eye. No crack in the bark
escaped her, and, now and then, it was evident that some six-
legged creature, which would do no good to the tree, was
seizedand transferred into that marvellous receptacle, a bird's
crop. Then it was the turn of the twigs and leaves. At times
even single leaves were carefully examined. the little bill
picking here and seizing there, tts owner the while turning
herself into all the possible and impossible attitudes which
only titsand such-like ethereal creatures are capable of assum-
ing. Twigs bend with the weight, tiny as it is. But that
matters nothing. Mrs. Tit isas much at home upside downas
she is the other way. She hangs by the slenderest of sup-
ports, she twists, she turns, now on terra firma so to speak, a
moment after toall intentsand purposes hanging by nothing, so
slender is the support she has found, the tiny petiole of some
delicateleaf. But in all her attitudes, unstudied as they are.
sheisa model of grace. Her poses, unrehearsed and unthoug ht-
of, are such as might bring a twinge of envy to the most
graceful of the other biped kind.

She was giving the whole of her attention to a so-called
Chinese ash, which is not an ash at all, but whose botanical
name has escaped recollection forthe moment. It ison these
trees evidently that the tits find most of what they want. A
beautifully clothed Sebifera growing close by, with its deli-

THE TIT FAMILY. 63

cately tinted and veined leaves, is left severely alone. Evi-
dently it has no insect population as yet.

Mrs. Tit has nothing much to boast of in the way of dress.
Her colours are mainly blue-blacks, whites, and greys. But
what cannot Nature do with even those? I am the more in-
clined to praise the tit just now because, for some reason or
other which is now unexplainable, she was by no means one
of my favourites as a boy. She was generally held to be “too
cheeky altogether.” Her chatter overhead showed it, and
she never came down to the ground in the familiar way the
sparrows, robins, wagtails, and other birds did. If ever one
was trapped—a very rare occurrence—there was as much
jubilation in our savage little souls as there is amongst the
angels over the sinner that repenteth. Even the delicate little
blue tit, which we do not see here, with his cerulean head,
his black and white collar, his yellow under parts, and his
grey-blue back, was not pretty enough to soften our hearts
then. There was, however, a bit of shy appreciation of the
long-tailed chatter-mag, by which name Acredula caudata
of the white head was known to the country folks. Here was
a lightsome little creature which even the country boy might
“Sgnorantly worship.” And with good reason. It is true that
his barbarian tendencies taught him to throw stones even at
the chatter-mag, but it was with a well-founded belief that
they would never reach their mark, and they never did. To-
day, in China, the fluttering movements of the white variety of
the Paradise flycatcher remind me of the scuttling little flight
of the long-tailed tits as they hurried along the English hedge-
rows playing an eternal game of “follow my leader,” gaining a
livelihood enroute,and keeping thelittle company together—the
long tails are never alone—by their pleasant little chatter.
You may see their Chinese representatives doing much the
same thing during the winter months. Just now the foliage
is too thick for onlookers properly to observe such restless
little sprites. ‘i

Tits are found in most countries. Ornithologists speak
of some 120 species, and there are perhaps a score of these
described amongst the birds of China. It is difficult, however,
to be sure of the correct nomenclature when authorities
disagree. Thus Parus Commixtus of Pére David is, for ex-
ample, Parus Minor of Swinhoe. But, after all, for our pur-
pose in these chats, this is a matter which may well be left
for the learned to fight out. Exactitude, though very desir-
able in a hundred different ways, is not essential to admir-
ation. Theeye is caught before the deep recesses of the mind
are reached; the ear before there is logical classification ;
and it is through Eye-gate and Ear-gate—to borrow terms
from Bunyan—that most people are drawn into a love of

64 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

birds, that love which to all such lovers is repaid”’a thousand-
fold into their bosom.”

Something has been said above respecting the food of
the tits. But there has long been a wordy warfare between
gardeners and mere bird lovers as to whether the tits are
not a greater evil than good in gardens and orchards. It is
allowed by the gardeners that the tits eat a great many insects,
caterpillars and the like, but, in getting at them they are
said to kill buds! Iam afraid that this charge cannot alto-
gether be disproved but, in mitigation of any punishment
that might be deemed desirable, it might be argued that
every bud so killed would have died through the effect of
the insect or grub, and therefore the tit really ought to
get off scot free. No one who has ever watched the tits
and the extremely systematic way they go about their search
can doubt the advantage of their service to the grower of
trees. Here, in Shanghai, much of the beauty of our tree life,
now becoming so plentiful, is due to the very effective search-
ing carried out not only by tits but by bulbuls, finches,
orioles, and sparrows. I have seen all these doing such duty
as entitles them to every respect and protection.

Tits are remarkable nest builders. Most of them prefer
holes in which they can accumulate a heterogeneous mass
of moss, hay, feathers, and the like. Most of them lay eggs
more or less speckled with red, though some are nearly pure
white. In England people who love tits put up nest boxes,
to find them, of course, often taken possession of by fly-
catchers, redstarts, or sparrows. There are numerous stories
told of the extraordinary places which Mrs. Tit will select
for her home, coming back to it year by year if possible. A
pump in regular use was one of these: another was a letter-
box into which letters were dropped every day. The mother
is a close sitter, and one of the common country names for
the tit is “ Billy Biter” from the sharp pecks which fingers
intruding within the sacred precincts receive. But the most
beautiful nest which I personally know is that of the long-
tailed tit above mentioned. She prefers the open. No holes
with their stuffy atmosphere for her. All the nests of hers
which I have seen have been in thick bushes—in England
usually thorn or holly—probably from the protection they
give. In shape the nest is much like that of the wren, but in
placeof the green moss which the wren uses the long-tailed tit
prefersthe grey-green lichen fromtrees. That is for the outside
only. Internally the little home is a cosy collection of feathers.
An enthusiast once took the trouble to count, and found that
the protection of the little tits from cold had entailed on their
parents the collection and carriage of no fewer them 2,379
feathers! No wonder the nest takes a fortnight or more to

THE TIT FAMILY. 65

build. What was always a marvel to me as a boy, and has
remained a marvel ever since, was how such a tiny home—it
could be taken into the inside of a baby’s cap—could possibly
accommodate the numerous brood which Mrs, Tit places in it,
for she is not content with fewer thanfrom ten to fourteen. Yet
there they live and thrive, their parents being little less than
slaves whilst they are being brought up to days of discretion.
Loving little things they are, keeping together all through
the year with never so much as across word that I have
ever heard. Tweet and twitter they ever keep up in their
daily hunts. This keeps them together and, for the rest, their
life seems too busy a one for quarrels.

There are crested tits, which are attractive little things,
but they belong to a different genus. The yellow-cheeked
tit-mouse, however, should be mentioned. He is Asiatic,
and nicely marked with a black head, crest and long bib,
whilst his cheeks and underparts are yellow, the back being
marked with black, white, grey, and olive green.

CHAPTER NVIT.

WOODPECKERS.

Two or three times during the past week the merry cry
of the pied woodpecker (Picus mandarinus) has been the
first clear note of my waking hours. That shows two things,
first, that within our Settlement limits we have a great many
more trees than we used to have, and secondly, that some of
them are beginning to decay. For though woodpeckers will
go anywhere if there is the sort of food they like, and will
search trees of all ages, their favourite hunting grounds are
where trees are old and more or less decayed, for there,
naturally, they find more of insect and grub food than else-
where. It is a cheery, merry note, that of the woodpecker.
with no suggestion of a song in it, but merely a call to let
his mate know his whereabouts amongst the trees. Just
now, you might thank your lucky stars if you caught a glimpse
of him as he went across the lawn or flew from one hamlet
to another in the country. Once amongst the trees, now that
the leaves are so thick, it is a hundred to one that you will
not seen him at all. Even inthe winter, to avoid observation,
he has a knack of dodging round to the other side of the
trunk he is searching just asa squirrel will do, and it is only
by patient waiting that you will ever get a good clear view
of him close at hand, and then only if you stand or sit quite
still till he has lost his shyness. Then, especially if you have
your binocular, you will be rewarded for your waiting. The
mandarin woodpecker is the local representative of Picus
Major at home. With a black groundwork on the back,
there are many pretty white and grey markings, and in the
case of the male a red splash on the top of the head. Under-
neath, as is usually the rule, the colours are lighter, greys
on the breast, and rosy red over the ventral parts. As I
have said, this species is now more or less a familiar visitor
to the more wooded Shanghai gardens, but he is best seen
farther away in the country, and he is especially fond of
those old clumps of firs which have grown grey in their watch
over the graves of the richer departed native worthies of last
century.

The green woodpecker which we find about here is a sort
of second cousin to the mandarin. He ts of the Grecinus type

WOODPECKERS. 67

and is locally known as Grecinus Tancolo, though he may
well be compared with Grecinus viridis,the green woodpecker
of British woods. He is bigger somewhat than the pied
variety, and altogether different in colour, being a yellowish
green on the back, with white markings on the wings, a
crimson crown tothe head and the ordinary lightertints beneath.
He is distinctly a handsome bird, and perhaps a little bolder
than his cousin, the mandarin. At any rate he is more
frequently to be seen in this province, and his undulating flight
once known will never be mistaken. He usually alights close
to the bottom of the tree he means to search, and then works
his way upward, tapping here and there and looking every-
where. You will see him occasionally on the ground, the side
of a bank for preference.

In common with the rest of his tribe he lives on insects
and other tree pests, being especially fond of the wood-lice
which are to be found in such numbers where there is decay-
ing wood to provide them food and shelter. The tapping of
the woodpecker is another unforgettable thing. It is impos-
sible to believe at first that any animal could possibly strike,
and draw back, and strike, and draw back again so rapidly as
the woodpecker does. In olden times the sound used to be
compared with that of a rattle, but Iam more inclined to liken
it to something modern-—an adjustible electric hammer which
can be set to hit as many times per second as may be desired.
This gives the woodpecker tapping effect exactly, and doubt-
less with the aid of one of these instruments the rate at
which the bird makes its strokes might be easily discovered.
The sound is so rapidly continuous as to be a sort of patter
or rattle, and is very effective in awakening insect life
hiding under bark. When its prey is apparently secure
in worm holes or other hiding places the woodpecker’s
wonderful tongue comes into play. This is a worm-shaped
weapon with a hardened and sharpened point like the point
of a harpoon, with this difference, that whilst the harpoon
has barbs only on two sides, the woodpecker’s tongue has
them all round. As it is very elastic it can be forced to a
considerable distance beneath the surface of the wood, and
once fixed in the body of grub or insect has so sure a hold,
thanks to the barbs, that the prey is quickly drawn out and
swallowed.

Whereupon there is afforded ground for much specu-
lation as to the philosophy of nature. Within the past month
I have had occasion to note the manner in which birds feed.
I have seen a blackbird within a single minute commit four
six-inch murders. In other words I have seen him draw
from less than’a single square yard of soft soil six worms in
the space of less than sixty seconds, and apparently remain as

68 WILD LIFE IN CHINA,

hungry as before. J have seen swallows hunting over the
same lawn and killing quite as often, probably oftener. One
evening in the country I happened ttpon a pairof kingfishers.
The tide was at its lowest, there was a shoal of young fry in
water not more than three inches deep, and I saw the female
bird dip twelve times in three minutes into the midstofthem,
every time securing her prey. Then apparently she was
satisfied for she began tidying herself up a little. Now it
might be argued by one who believed in the absolute bene-
ficence of nature that once upon a time these birds all lived
on vegetable matter, and that only after the “fall” they
became murderers of this terrible type. There is nothing
about them so conspicuously adapted to their present kind of
life but might, perhaps, be explained away. But what of
that tongue? What of the barbed end of it? There is evidence
of design, is there not? And the design is deadly. What
then are we to conclude? Was the Designer beneficent? If
so, destruction is compatible with beneficence, and when
Tennyson finds nature “red in tooth and claw with ravin” as
she is, he must conclude that it is all for the best. But where
is nature or man to draw the line? Is destruction to reign
everywhere, or should it stop with man? Troublesome ques-
tions, these.

They don't worry the woodpeckers apparently, who pair
off, bore their nest-hole if they cannot find one, and bring up
their four or five young every year, their pure white eggs,
being bedded on soft rotten wood. There are many species
and varieties of woodpeckers in different parts of China, anda
specimen of the Fukien rufous kind will be found in the Shang-
hai Museum. He is about the size of the green species, but far
less handsome, being covered with dark brown plumage with
ruddy brown bars. Another variety is the Yurgipicus Kale-
ensis, a woodpecker about the side of a bulbul and marked
very much like Picus Mandarinus. David describes a still
smaller variety under the name of Vivia Innominata, but he
does not say that it is found in this neighbourhood. It may
have been this that 1 once saw in the Chekiang province
when on a Christmas shooting trip. My companion and 1
were walking back to the boat one day with our guns under
our arms. Crossing a mulberry plantation our attention
was attracted to what we at first took to be.a member of
the tit family. It was a tiny little thing, and at thirty yards
looked so like a tit that we should probably have passed it
without further notice. But as our path lay closer to the
tree, one of the low-cut mulberries, we saw that our little
friend was certainly not an ordinary tit, and closer inspec-
tion still, of which he appeared to take no notice, shewed
far more resemblance in bil! and head to the woodpecker

WOODPECKERS. 69

family. So we stood in wondering admiration. What could
we call it? It had all the lightsome grace of the tits, but
there was the woodpecker bill. We debated the question, the
subject of debate all the while continuing his careful search
for food within about ten yards of us. Science suggested
shooting him so that he might be definitely examined, cata-
logued, and stuffed. Admirationargued mercy. How pretty
he is, how lissome: watch him now standing on his head as the
blue tit will; and then, how trustful! Could anybody but a
miscreant murder a fragile little creature like that after
standing and weighing his fate? Besides, your cartridges
are No. 5. You know they are, and the little inch or two of
daintiness threatened with doom would be blown to bits at
this distance. Sothere are a dozen reasons why you shouldn't
shoot. “Tut, tut!” Science replied. “Think of the gain to the
world’s knowledge. This is a bird which is possibly new
even to ornithologists. You have never seen anything like it
before, and probably never will again!”

True words. I cannot tell whether there is a sort of
avian telepathy which warned the little woodpecker-tit that
Science might get the better of the argument, but he was off
like a flash, and we saw him no more. We often think and
speak of him, but to this day the debate has never been end-
ed, though I think admiration and mercy are gradually get-
ting the better of the regrets of science. Still-——I should very
much like to know exactly what she was.

y

— ee oe

CHAPTER XVIII.

PIGEONS, DOVES, AND SAND-GROUSE.

“Pigeon, a well-known bird of the dove family.” “Dove.
a pigeon.” Thus “The Twentieth Century Dictionary,” a
distinction without a difference found in a search for real
differences. Skeat helps even less. “Dove,” with him is
connected with “dive,” which is a piece of etymological in:
formation interesting only because it shows the name to have
been first applied to other birds. “ Pigeon” he tells us comes
from an imitative word formed of the cry of the young. Thus
the student of nature eagerly in search of an answer to his
own query, “What is the difference between a pigeon anda
dove?” is met at the outset with linguistic difficulties. Asa
matter of fact the two words are often used interchangeably,
with this reservation that those birds of the genus Columba
having marked swellings at the base of the bill are usually
called pigeons, and those without them doves. The difference
is easily noticeable if an ordinary tame pigeon is compared
with one of the wild, wood varieties, e.g., the ring dove and
stock dove in England or Turtur Sinensis and Turtur Rupicola,
as we know them in this province.

The most common about Shanghai is Turtur Sinensis,
the Chinese turtle-dove. This is the bird which is becoming
as tame in the western district of Shanghai as is its near
relative the ring dove, wood-pigeon, or wood-quest of the
London parks. Two years ago [ had an opportunity of study-
ing these birds in four separate districts in England, in the
northern and southern counties, in north Wales, and in Lon-
don. Inthethree first its degree of wildness might be measured
by the amount of persecution it received from shooting men,
but there was little difference between north and south.
Once seen, it was impossible ‘for a man to approach nearer
than a couple of hundred yards or so. Hence the contrast in
St. James's Park was marked in the extreme. There
doves came fearlessly to one’s very feet, searched about by
the side of one’s chair for crumbs or bits of biscuit, and showed
no more alarm than would a barndoor fowl. Such may be the
extent of trustfulness between man and wild nature when the
wild nature of man has been curbed by law and custom. I
had seen the same conditions on the island of Pootoo a

PIGEONS, DOVES, AND SAND-GROUSE. 71

quarter of a century earlier. Why do we not extend
them? Here in Shanghai I have often seen wild birds fed
with “crumbs from the rich man’s table,” the charm of the
sight repaying a million times over the little trouble given.
For at one and the same moment I have seen rooks, magpies,
bulbuls, tits, sparrows, blackbirds, and doves feeding away to
their own great delight and that of the spreader of the feast.

Biblical references to doves are also references to love,
gentleness, harmlessness, and the like. Mendelssohn’s aria,
“O for the wings of a dove” is perhaps one of the most
marvellously beautiful songs ever written, and easily worth
ten thousand volumes of the meretricious stuff which goes by
thenameof musicto-day. Gentleness is indeeda characteristic
of the dove family. Seen alongside the selfish assertiveness
of the blackbird, the grasping tendencies of the rook and the
wiliness of the magpie, the modest retiring nature of the dove
appears in sharp and pleasing contrast. The most in the way
of violence I have ever seen a dove do is to make a semi-threat-
ening rush at another of his kind, which the attacked one
avoids by getting out of the way fora yard or two. His
courting of his mate is a most amusing combination of defer-
enceand love. He bows again and again, he coos, and coos, he
puffs out his feathers to show off to best advantage that pretty
speckled black and white tippet he wears,and which corresponds
with the “ring” of the ring-dove. At times he feels impelled
to do something more to show the strength of his passion.
Then one sees him winnowing his way up by a beautifully
curved ascent into the air to the height of a hundred feet or
so, from which in a similar curve he free-wheels down on
wide-spread wing to the branch on which she sits. Soon, of
course, building operations commence. These are very rudi-
mentary. Young doves are, evidently, most amenable to
advice, and when Mater Columba says, “Now sit still, or
you'll fall off,” (it isn’t a matter of falling out), baby Columba
very quietly obeys. I have watched the whole operation
during the breeding season this year, the nest being close to
a path along which many hundreds of people passed every
day, none of them apparently, except myself, ever dreaming
that egg-laying, incubation, and rearing of young were going
on so near. The nest was on the side of a small tree trunk
away from the path, and before it was finished the leaves of
our common house-creeper hid it so completely that the casual
glances I could give never solved the question whether there
were one or two young ones. There are never more than two.

Turtur Rupicola is almost exactly a reproduction of what
we know as the turtle dove at home There are barred
markings on the back and wings which differentiate it from
the Chinese turtle dove we know so well. My own experience

WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

wT
NN

is that the “Eastern Turtle-dove, ° as it is called, is rare in
this immediate neighbourhood, except perhaps in winter. 1
have seen it at the hills, but the next province, Chekiang, is
the place where in winter I have found it most plentiful.
Sometimes it was called by sporting men the Kashing pigeon
to distinguish it from that better known at Shanghai. It is
somewhat bigger, too.

Notwithstanding the fact that the pigeon family brings
forth only one or two young to a brood, a single pair has
been known to have a progeny of nearly 15.000 in four years,
counting, of course all their descendants within that time.
This fact, taken into consideration with the voracity of their
appetites, marks out the pigeon family as one to be kept
down when in the neighbourhood of man. Many years ago
an American observer estimated the number of passenger
pigeons forming one immense assemblage which he knew,
at well over two thousand millions, and allowing each of
them a daily half-pint of seed, far too little as I can testify,
he reckoned that they would consume more than seventeen
million bushels per day! In self-defence, then, man must
shoot, trap, and otherwise destroy as many of these birds as he
can. Necessity knows no law. And it would seem as if Nature
intended this to be done, for the pigeon being a first cousin
to the fowl family, is apparently designed as food for man.
At the proper season, therefore, pigeon shooting is as de-
fensible as the shooting of pheasants, partridges, grouse, and
others of the gallinaceans. Not pigeon-shooting from traps,
please take note! That has led to various atrocities.

Few sportsmen would think of connecting any of the
grouse with the Columbidae. Yetthey are somewhat closely
allied, the link being that extremely interesting bird, Pallas’s
sand-grouse, Syrrhaptes paradoxus, with its swallow-like
wings and tail, and its occasional incursions into regions
where it is usually never seen. I have seen little flocks of
them in North Manchruia, but at times they have been known
to penetrate to the utmost extremes of western Europe.
There were incursions of them into England in 1863 and
1888, why or wherefore men were at a loss toaccount. They
came in the spring. Some people think that the Bible. in
some parts, for quail should read sand-grouse. Vast flocks
of them are seen together at times, and, as their name im-
plies, usually in districts of a more or less desert nature.
There are several species of them, one of which is a native
of Tibet. The Chinese have a belief that their irruptions
are often omens of coming political or dynastic change.

Besides various structural peculiarities. which connect
sand-grouse with the Columbidae, there is the quite uncommon
habit noticeable when both are drinking. Most birds dip the

PIGEONS, DOVES, AND SAKRD=CROUSE, 73

bill into water, fll it with liquid, and then lift the head so that
the water may run down the throat, as though there were no
throat muscles fitted for forcing water upward as is the case
with cows, horses, and other quadrupeds; with man also, a
juggler being able to drink a glass of wine when standing on
his head. The pigeon family on the other hand, as also the
sand-grouse, plunge the bill into water and hold it there until
their thirst is quenched. Their immense powers of flight
enable them to indulge their liking for dry soils and yet get
to water when they need to. On the wing they more resemble
plover than they do their game cousins of Scottish and Eng-
lish moors.

Before closing this little notice of these interesting
species, it should be mentioned that Pére David describes,
fifteen different sorts of pigeons and doves belonging to China.
Some, however, are very local, and found only in the west
or near the spurs thrown off by the mighty Himalayas. Some
are connected with the island fauna, with Hainan or Formosa,
for example. Of pigeons, as distinct from doves, there may
be mentioned the Eastern rock pigeon (Columba intermedia)
which is found in great numbers amongst the hilly parts of
northern China. Itis usually said that all our tame varieties
of pigeons have been bred by crossing from the common
will rock pigeonin England. It would be interesting to know
whether the Chinese have any such belief respecting theirs
and whether they consider their rock pigeon also the parent
of all the rest.

— PY RRIe -

CHAPTER NIN.

SWALLOWS, MARTINS, SWIFTS, AND
NIGHT-JARS.

In China, no less than in England and other countries,
all the swallow family are welcome visitors. How large a
part the swallow fills in English literature every reader
knows. Probably it is the same in all other literatures, for
there is, in the swallow tribe, an appeal which invariably goes
to the heart of man, the appeal for protection. Sometimes
the swallow insists on building in our chimneys, oftener in
our out-buildings, and in the form of the house-martin,
(Chelidon urbica) in rows under our eaves. In Germany as
in China it is quite a common thing for the householder to
provide a shelf on which the nest is placed, be it in the stable
or, more commonly in China, in the dwelling room of the
family where, as “The Dream of the Red Chamber” says.

“New swallows flit amongst the beams
Each in its thoughtless way.”

It is difficult to imagine a better object-lesson in kind-
ness and gentle behaviour to wild creatures than this. A
special inlet is provided for the birds whenever necessary,
and not even the most thoughtless boy would dream of harm-
ing the family visitor any more than he would the family babe.

What the difference is between swallows and martins is
a question which I have frequently found to puzzle even
people who, liking birds, take some interest in them. It is
useless to say that the family name of the swallow is Hirundo
whilst that of the Martin is Chelidon. That means nothing.
It is necessary to go to marked distinctions on the outside.
If in looking into a nest you saw white eggs marked
with brown and grey you might safely hope to see a swal-
low visiting it. If the eggs were pure white they would be
amartin’s. But this again is of no use in the field. Here
is a bird now before us hawking “low o’er the grass” for
flies, a sure sign of rain. Is there any mark by which he
may be distinguished. There are two or three. He is below
the line of sight as draughtsmen say, and so you see only
his back. Well, if that is a uniform purple black, and if
his tail is so forked as to stream behind somewhat in two
longish points, he is a swallow. Had he been a martin there

SWALLOW'S, MARTINS, SWIFTS, AND NIGHT-JARS. 75

would have been a white patch on his rump, and his tail would
have been less fully divided and shorter. If on the other
hand the barometer stands high, and the birds are soaring
overhead, it will be seen that the under parts of the martin
are white, whilst the swallow will show a forehead and gorget
of a ruddy colour. The tail difference will be equally marked
whether seen from above or below. It makes of the swallow
a bird with the body of a tit and yet a length of some seven
and a half inches.

Swallows come to us early in April as a rule, but the
capriciousness of our spring plays them sad tricks sometimes,
rude Boreas being too strong at times for Zephyrus, notwith-
standing what the Chinese poet, Pao Chao, of the fifth
century says:—

“Swallows flit past, a zephyr shakes

The plum blooms down.”

I have seen half-frozen swallows glad to hawk round moving
cattle in the field for the occasional flies they put up, and I
have been myself accompanied by a swallow for the same
purpose when I have been out after spring snipe.

It seems hardly correct to call swallows and martins wild
birds but there is a kind of martin that is entirely so, which,
whilst not particularly afraid of man or shunning him, yet
keeps to itself amongst the hills, or wherever it can find
a bank to supply room for its nest. These are the sand
martins, whose classical family name is Cotyle. They keep
to the country, and having found a hill-side or precipice, even
a railway cutting will do, into which they can bore holes for
their nesting places, proceed to excavate a tunnel to the depth
they require, just as mining engineers run an adit into a hill.
But as we have none of these in ourimmediate neighbourhood.
there is no need to dwell further on their characteristics.

Another class of birds very much like the swallows in
form are the swifts. Scientifically, however, these are nearer
the humming birds and the night-jars than they are to the
true swallows. The common swift, the devilling, or devil-
screecher as he is sometimes called by country people in
England, is much more common there than he is here. Swifts
seem to vary in numbers yearly much more than swallows
do. I can remember seasons in England when there have
been very few. The year 1908, on the other hand, seemed
to me remarkable for their great numbers. It is quite a rare
occurrence to see swifts in the immediate neighbourhood of
Shanghai, but I have seen them sweeping across the sky in
their lightning fashion over the Feng-hwang Shan. Their
cry is a long-drawn scream: whence the name given them by
rustic England. Pere David describes seven species includ-
ing those most closely allied.

76 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

A very strange and curious bird, more or less intimately
related to the swifts, is the night-jar. All sorts of extra-
ordinary stories have been told of this interesting bird. His
name of “ goat-sucker” (Caprimulgus is his classic denomina-
tion: literally the “goat milker”’) hints at one of them. We
need not wonder why such marvellous beliefs arise. The
night-jar, as his name implies, is not a bird which makes his
appearance common by showing himself in daylight. At the
present time, if I happen to be awake in the night or to rise.
about break of day, I am sure to hear the “churr” of this
interesting bird, the “jar” part of his name being merely an
attempt at the representation of his call. He indulges in this
quite frequently, and in so characteristic a manner that it
can never be mistaken. In thirty-five years the times which
Ihave seen him might perhaps be counted on the fingers of
one hand. Once, probably frightened from his day sleeping
place, one came and alighted on my verandah rail taking his
usual position longitudinally along it. He was approached
near enough for the beautiful protective markings of his
plumage to be noted. the dark ashy grey of the breastwith a
close mottling of black, the mixture of browns and blacks on
the back so cleverly combined as to make the wearer indis-
tinguishable when in his natural position on the limb of a
tree. There onthe verandah rail the unnatural swelling was
conspicuous enough, however close to the wood the bird
might snuggle down.

On another occasion, and quite by accident, | saw one
in his own chosen resting place. Just as in a puzzle picture
one may look for something for an hour without seeing it,
and then all of a sudden catch the outline and wonder how it
was possible to look at all without seeing from the beginning,
so with my second night-jar. I caught sight of him ina flash,
as he was resting on the thick branch ofatree. It was broad
daylight at the time. One might have passed a score of times
and not seen him, so perfectly did his body and its colouring
represent a knot on the upper surface of the branch. For
some minutes I stood in mute admiration, the night-jar evi-
dently having perfect faith tn his invisibility as a bird, and not
meaning to “give himself away” by moving. So I stood and
watched, taking in all that the eye couldsee. Moving a little
nearer, and still keeping my eye fixed on him, he began to
show signs of disquiet and, as birds strongly object to being
stared at, he by and by flew off.

On still another occasion I watched one in the dusk of the
evening hawking for moths over a cotton field. That wasin
late September when moths were in great plenty. With all
the swiftness of the swallow, the night-jar, thanks to his size
and colour, looks a little ike a hawk. His enormously wide

SWALLOWS, MARTINS, TWIFTS, AND NIGHT-JARS. 77

gape, and the stiff bristles round his mouth probably enable
him to catch most of the moths he triesfor. They certainly
have no chance if it comes to a question of speed. Being out
.after autumn snipe at the time, I had a shot at the new quarry
with no result but to scare him away altogether. Once again
I saw another similarly engaged in hunting and admired his
‘operations for some time. The most recent occasion when I
have seen one was in the late summer of last year when he
came flying over the trees and across the lawn just as dusk
was turning into night. ;

The Chinese have rarely any love for uncanny spirits of
the dark, and when birds have calls, as some of the night-jars
have, which are very articulate, men are apt to red into them
a good deal more than is there. “The Dream of the Red
‘Chamber,” however, mentioned above, contents itself with
noting the cry thus :—

“The night-jar now has ceased to mourn

The dawn comes on apace.”’

I have never been able to decide precisely what species
-or variety it is which frequents Shanghai gardens and woods,
never having had an actual specimen for comparison with
‘ornithological descriptions. I am inclined to think that
: is yearly becoming more common as there is more cover
for it.

¢ BAYA

CHAPTER XX.

THE SHRIKES.

More interesting than lovable: that in four words is pro-
bably the character which most ornithologists would give of
the shrike family. It is impossible to refuse a chapter to a.
group of birds which, mainly by one variety, force themselves.
on the attention of all wanderers over the hills and plains of
eastern China. Theshrike is always with us. Not in dense
masses as we find the rook, not in family groups as we see the
hawfinches, or the longtailed tits, not in occasional collections
as we find larks in winter, but always singly orin pairs. The
shrike is not a sociable bird. He “gets on” after a fashion
with other birds of his size, but now and then one sees an
incident which tends to prove that there is little love lost
between him and the smaller birds.

His family name carries its own condemnation, for his
Latin title, Lanius, means simply “the tearer, the lacerator,
the butcher”, and it is as the butcher-bird that he is gener-
ally known to a large number of English people. His English
name “shrike” is merely a variant of the word “shriek”,
and comes from the screaming nature of hiscry ofalarm. At
times, however, he can warble a by no means unpleasant
little ditty of his own. I have heard him many times when,
perfectly content with his day’s hunting and sitting on some
convenient branch, outstanding so as to be clearly visible and
command anallround view, he has returned thanks to the
All-Giver before the close of day. Not infrequently this has
been in the winter time, when a warm afternoon, cloudless
and sunny, was being rounded off with a rosy glowing in the
west. Then a dainty little song from Lanius Schah, with his
ruddy chestnut backandstrong curved beak, sounds as though
never in his life had he been guilty of the death of even the
meanest of God’s creatures. And I must give him this much
credit, at least in this part of the world, I have never once
come across what is commonly known asa shrike’s larder, the
thorn-bush where he sticks up the uneaten carcases of his
victims—insects, small birds, mice, frogs, or what not. One
meets with hundreds of the red-backed shrikes in this and
the next province, and it seems certain that if they were in
the habit of putting their food into storage—cold or warm
according to the season—signs of it must be equally plentiful.

THE SHRIKES. 79

My own experience is, however, as I have said, for though I
have often looked for a shrike larder I have never found one.
Probably our common shrike is almost entirely an insect
eater, though once upon a time one did me the favour of
acting as retriever of a wounded quail which perhaps I
should not otherwise have found. He pounced down upon it
from his stand on a small bush and so showed its position,
proving at the same time that he has all the will of his larger
friends in the matter of flesh-eating.

The great grey shrike of the Far East, is Lanius Spheno-
cercus, whose French name Pie Griéche, or speckled magpie,
will far more clearly describe him to English readers than
any other. He is really a very handsome bird indeed, with
the blacks and whites which make the common magpie so
charmingly conspicuous. He hasa grey back and a somewhat
lighter covering underneath, whilst his wings are banded
black and white, the side of the head surrounding the eye
having the black splash characteristic of most of the butcher-
bird family, all these simple tints being combined, as Nature
alone can combine, into a perfect assemblage pleasurable to
the eye and useful to the wearer. They call him Lanius
Excubitor in Europe, “the butcher sentinel or watchman.”
I have already remarked on the preference which shrikes
show for some commanding standpoint, not too high. That
this has its advantages is evident. It is no less plain that
whilst it may give opportunities to the shrike to see his prey,
it none the less places him ina position where he may likewise
be seen by whatever enemies he may chance to have. Now
it seemsthat certain hawks and falcons are by no means averse
from Lanius himself. Evidently, therefore, to be safe on his
high perch he must be not merely watchful but possessed of
quick sight. That he has this has been proved again and
again, and in countries where men make a business of captur-
ing hawks and falcons for sporting purposes the shrike be-
comes one of their most efficient aids. Pigeon decoys are
set out asalure for the hawks and close by a captured
shrike is so tethered that besides having a good view from
where he stands, he can retreat into alittle shelter prepared
for him when the hawk comes. The bird-catcher remains
quiet in his hut, busy about anything he cares to turn his
hand to, until the clamour of the shrike informs him that a
hawk is near. He knows even the kind of hawk, because
whilst there are some of these birds of prey who will take
only what they can seize in their swoop, there are others who
will alight on the ground and so far lower themselves as
to search for their hidden prey. The shrike clamours accord-
ing to his fears, particularly fears of the hawks that alight.
Thus forewarned, the bird-catcher knows what to do, and if

80 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

things go as he wishes, he soon has his quarry safely en-
sconced behind bars.

Visitors to the Shanghai Museum will find some six or
eight varieties of the shrike family in a case in the N.W.
corner of the bird room. Both those already mentioned are
there, as also a pair of the bull-headed shrikes. (Lanius
Bucephalus), marked on the back pretty much the same as
our own bird, but with a barred breast and belly covering.
The dingy shrike (L. Tephronotus) is also represented, and
the thick-billed shrike, (L. Magnirostris). Many of these
birds are migrants, and it is quite possible that in this neigh-
bourhood, as in others, there are occasional visitors which
surprise and delight the observer by their difference from
those with which he is best acquainted. In the spring of this
year, when on a visit to the Hills, I had several opportunities
of watching a shrike which was newto me. As birds had begun
to breed I hadnogun,andsowas possessed of no better weapon
than abinocular. That, however, was good enough to providea
great deal of interesting occupation. My new friend was smaller
than L. Schah, who is always with us winter and summer.
He was in fact about the size of an ordinary bulbul, but
otherwise was possessed of all the shrike characteristics.
His short wings and comparatively long tail were there, the
shrike flight was there, the love for the conspicuous position
was there, and the voice was there. The markings on the
back were not unlike those of our common friend, but those
on the under parts were of a lighter colour, a creamy white
with no dark lines visible through the glass. It is possible
that these birds were the variety which Swinhoe has described
under the name of L. Waldeni out of compliment to Lord
Walden, though the specimens discovered by him were in
western China, in Szechwan. I believe that Swinhoe thought
this bird and L.Magnirostris might be the same bird seen, the
one in winter, and the other in summer plumage.

Somebody somewhere has called shrikes the “falcons of
the insect world,” but one fails to see the appropriateness of
the phrase. The falcon is all grace and swiftness, the shrike
is rather clumsy than otherwise, and his flight has nothing of
that compelling rapidity which we associate with the cruiser
of the air. Both are birds of prey after their fashion, but the
falcon is a gentlemen, whilst the shrike is a—butcher. The
falcon swoops, the shrike descends. The falcon tears, and is
satisfied. The shrike kills and impales. Precisely why he
does this nobody knows. Insects thus kept do not improve
by the keeping, neither, one would imagine, would mice or
small birds. Some people suggest that the larder is an
attraction to flies, and a bait to other small creatures which
the butcher may make his prey, but all this is pure hypothesis.

THE SHRIKES. 81

Nesting shrikes have little of the artfulness given to some
of the land-nesting birds, such as the lapwing and others of
the plover family. These are adepts in leading a dog or his
master away from the position of their eggs, just as the part-
ridge will employ the most extraordinary artifices to attract
attention toherself whilst her little ones scuttle away amongst
the undergrowth. But the shrike, on the contrary, rather
shows by his fussy clamour exactly where his carelessly
constructed home is situated. The great grey shrike builds
as a rule in trees, but rarely deep in the wood, the parents
preferring a more open position on the outskirts. Twigs,
fibres, and straw form the outer materials, the lining being
made comfortable by feathers and other soft substances.
The eggs area greenish white with variously coloured blotches.
The red-backed shrike on the other hand builds, more fre-
quently in bushes, a nest of stalks lined with hair, etc. The
eggs vary between salmon colour with light red markings.
and a yellowish-white with olive and lilac markings. All the
shrikes, notwithstanding their character otherwise, are
model parents, tending their young most assiduously until
they can take care of themselves, and then discarding them,
as is the general rule with birds of prey. We may end as
we began, the shrike is a bird more interesting than lovable.
He has been kept in confinement, but so far as ! know has
never been a pet.

CHAPTER NNI.

MYNAS, STARLINGS, ETC.

One of the earliest recollections of many a country boy
in the home lands must be the starlings which year by year
bring up their broods without the slightest attempt at con-
cealment in or near the paternal home, sometimes in the
thatch, if the house be of the very old-fashioned sort, some-
times under the eaves, but always in some hole or other where
the young have perfect cover from the weather. Very often
a hollow apple-tree supplies the necessary shelter, but my
own first recollection of the starling is of a pair which many
years before I could remember had made their home close
by the side of the chimney in my grandmother’s house, and
continued to do so for more years than I can tell. They
found an entrance under the slates and went some feet before
coming to the spot they had originally selected for the nest.
There, by dint of climbing inside the building, it was possible
to get to them, and there, twice a year, they produced their
clutch of light, blue-green eggs, and brought up their hungry
brood. Even as a boy I was struck with the frequency with
which both father and mother came with food, a very few
minutes being the longest absence, from the early morn of
an English summer to the late sunset—some eighteen hours
all told.

Grown up, the country boy watches starlings for other
reasons. The immensity of their numbers: the raids they
make on garden and orchard: the beauty of their plumage,
and above all the extraordinary precision of their manoeuvres
when, in their airy multitudes, they compel a wondering
interest. An old volunteer, who remembers the days when
the art of “wheeling” was practised in field exercises, cannot
fail to remember how proud acompany officer would be when
his men were able to “come round like a brick wall.” Even
a brigadier would praise the difficult operation of wheeling
a battalion or a brigade in close order, when there were
perhaps four or five thousand men engaged. But officers,
whether company or field, had rational beings to deal with,
men who had been instructed in the art of keeping relative
positions. The starling has no school. His drill ground
is the sky. If he reasons, he does it remarkably well, but

MYNAS, STARLINGS, ETC. 83

‘probably he doesn’t. His drill is instinctive or intuitive,
done “without thinking,” as old sergeants declare all good
drill is. But in astarling army there might be five hundred,
five thousand, or five hundred thousand. Numbers made no
‘difference, so far as I ever saw, for the wheeling, the
“countermarching”, thedispersions, and re-assemblings were
all done as though every bird were fixed in the air at its
respective distance from every other, and could not “lose
ground” if it tried. Now a moment’s consideration will
suffice to show the marvel of this wondrous precision, for
whilstsome birds in a flock have to circle round a few yards,
‘others have to go perhaps a hundred times as far in the same
time in order to keep line with their own set, just as in the
“wheel” of a long line of cavalry, tbe outer horses have to
gallop their hardest whilst the pivot man marks time. But
these are birds! Who taught them? Who appointed their
officers? How are their orders given? How understood?

These are questions which no man has answered. The
facts wehave before our eyes, and all that one caresto remark
-about them is that they ought to make even the drilled man
more modest, whilst the undrilled should hide his unwilling
head and clumsy feet for very shame. But, notwithstanding
all this philosophic digression, it is unfortunate for us that
in this part of China we have no starlings of the species
above named—Sturnus vulgaris—with his acuminate breast
feathers, his metallic sheen, and his sprightly ways. There
-are starlings in China, but in this, and, I believe, in all the
parts farther south, they are different in species. There is the
grey starling (Sturnus cinereus), of which Pére David says,
“Enautomneet en hiver, il serépand en troupes innombrables
sur toute l’étendue de l’Empire.” In spite of this, however, it
has not been my fortunetocomeacross theseimmense numbers
in this neighbourhood. That may be for want of sufficient
inducement due to lack of the Sophora Japonica on whose
branches Pére David says they find a favourite food. The
next province —Chekiang—has another very charming
species, the white-headed starling (S. Sericeus), which, unlike
some of its cousins, is not a wanderer. Some of the starling
friends of my youth remained with us all the year, but many
migrate. The habits of the bird of Chekiang vary little from
those of its common European relative, though tn plumage
they are entirely different.

An allied genus is that of the starlets—Temenuchus. Two
species are shown in the museum—T. Sinensis, the Chinese
starlet, and T. Dauricus, the Daurian starlet, but so far as
I know, neither comes within reach of Shanghai, They
spend the winter in S. E. Asia coming northwards to the
western parts of China for the breeding season.

84 WILD LIFE IN CHINA,

By far the most common and the most interesting local
member of the great starling family is the myna, but he is
technically placed in a different genus, that of the Acrido--
theres, our familiar friend being known as A. Cristatellus,.
the crested myna. No one who has been a mile or two into
the country, and who has anything of an eye for winged life:
can have failed to notice a bird of somewhat stouter build
than the English starling, with a yellow bill anda little crest
springing from the root of it, black plumage with circles on
the expanded wings, and here and there white markings.
That is our local myna. There is a little in his flight to recall
his European cousin, and still morein the voice, different
though it be. A wanderer in the country in any part of
this or the neighbouring provinces is almost sure to meet with
little parties of mynas, some six or eight perhaps. When not:
busily engaged in feeding, which they do on the ground, they
are usually to beseen gathered together onatree whence their:
musical chatter falls pleasantly on the ear, especially so in.
winter when most other birds are silent. I have never seen.
more than perhaps a dozen or so of mynas together at any
time, and therefore have no means of judging whether or no.
they might, were there enough of them, rival a murmuration
ofstarlingsin England. Perhapsthey might. But I have many a
time paused on a bright winter afternoon, when shooting up--
country, to listen to the breezy little chorus arising from select
assemblages to be found anywhere within a hundred miles of
Shanghai. They can talk as well as sing, and that is one
reason why they areso popularascage birds, afact which would
havesuggested aconnexion with the starlings even if structure:
and habits had not done so. Indeed there is little to choose
between a starling and a myna in the matter of mimicry..
Both have the faculty of imitation largely developed, and it
is no uncommon thing for a listener to be deceived into think--
ing he has a little circle of songsters near him when all the
time it is but a single starling “trying over his parts” as it
were. Aswiththe English bird, the myna seeks out a hole for:
its nest, an old tree frequently providing the necessary shelter.
Thence the parents may be seen going for food, usually insects,
whicharefrequently found, againasin England,on the backs of
cattle, or close by them onthe ground. For this reason there
is just as close a friendship between Chinese cattle and mynas.
as there is between English cattle and starlings.

There are far more beautifully dressed mynas than the-
plain black and white variety so familiar in this neighbour-
hood. Some ofthe Indian birds are gorgeous in the extreme,.
but the most beautiful with which I am personally acquainted
is the myna of Honolulu with a charming assortment of blues.
and greys. There, out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean,.

MYNAS, STARLINGS, ETc. 85:

with a delightful climate comparable in many ways with that
of Penang, birds are naturally clad in tropic robes, and the
myna is no exception. His beauty, however, does not seem
to have caused his persecution, for I found him hardly less:
accustomed to the presence of man that is the myna of
Shanghai. It is to be hoped that bird-hunting for millinery
purposes may soon be suppressed by international law.

Another genus allied to the starlings and the mynas is
foundinthe grackles (Family, Eulabetidae). Only onespecimen
pair of these is to be seen in the Shanghai Museum, the
black-necked grackle (Graucupica Nigricollis), a handsome
bird brought, I think, from Fukien, the home of so many varied
species of beautiful birds. It has a mixed black, white, and
grey covering, of which the most noticeable portion is that
which gives the descriptive title, “black-necked,” there being
a handsome velvety collar right round. In India and other
tropic regions some of these glossy starlings, as they are
also called, shine with all the tints of the spectrum. One is
a beautiful emerald green almost all over. Another is a
rich golden chestnut above with black markings, the lower
parts being acreamy white. Still another has a most glorious
livery of blues and greens of varied shades, making it a
veritable gem of beauty. Some, too, have tails so long as to
give them anything but a starling look. Some have wattles,,
some are without. Altogether, ourhumble local representative
of the great starling tribe has no occasion to be ashamed of:
his family.

CHAPTER XXII.

PLOVERS.

Perhaps before these words appear in print, “the rolling
year” will have brought down our first migrants from the
north. I have known snipe down as early as the first week
in August, and we have now arrived at the end of the
second. At any time from now onward to chill November
we may hear the shrill cries of the night fliers as they circle
round and round over the Settlement seemingly distracted
by the unnatural light. Snipe, woodcock, plovers of many
‘sorts, ducks, geese, and all the rest will follow each other in
their flight to warmth and food. Our local migrations will
have been noticed by everybody who takes an interest in birds.
.Our rooks are gone: so are most of the blackbirds. Not since
the first week in July have I heard the call of the cuckoo,
nor, since about the middle of the month, the merry cry of the
Paradise flycatcher. All these have disappeared, the fly-
‘catchers till next April, the rooks till the end of the month or
so, and the blackbirds till about the beginning of October.

But the bird-lover need not trouble about that, since
during the coming weeks he will have the opportunity of
‘studying one of the most interesting and varied of our bird
families—the plovers and their allies. Here in a delta we
naturally have a good deal that is attractive to all the
long-legged species. There is always an abundance of
‘water. Marsh land is plentiful, and the sea-coast close at
hand. Eventhe most closely cultivated land is low and moist.
Much of it is paddy field. Indeed it would be difficult to
imagine a more suitable spot for waders and water birds
generally were it not for one thing, the thick-set population.
What the southern part of the province must have been during
the first few years after the Taipings had exterminated the
population over large tracts may be imagined from the con-
dition of affairs during the second half of the decade of the
‘sixties,’ when, in the neighbourhood of Kahshing there was a
sort of No-man’s-land rapidly going back to jungle. There
for years was founda paradise of game, from deer downward.

But we are specially interested just now in the plover
tribe, and perhaps the best representative of the group, the
-one most taken note of, and the most interesting to sport, is

PLOVERS. 87

the golden plover, known in England as Charadrius Pluvialis,
but out here represented by a slightly different species,
‘Charadrius Fulvus, the “gold-coloured.” The home bird
measures at times from ten to eleven inches in length, but that
is considerably above the average of those with which I have
personably come in contact in China. The summer dress of
the male is dark in colour on the upper parts with specks of
yellow, the under portion much lighter, and in parts white
with dark mottling. Beak and legs are likewise dark, almost
black. The female is of somewhat lighter tint. Both sexes
undergo a marked change in their seasonal dress. The
golden plover has but three toes. Its French name, Pliuvier
doré, suggests to an Englishman, who might not otherwise
think of it, the derivation of the term “plover,” which really
comes from the Latin, Aluvia, rain.

Somewhat longer in the leg than the snipe, the English
representative of the plovers is also somewhat heavier. I
have never weighed any in China, but I should think speaking
from memory and general impression, that there is not
much difference between their weight here. As to eating, no
general rule can be laid down. Some think the golden plover
excellent. I have experimented with most kinds, and find
that whilst all are more or less good when well cooked, they
hardly equal the snipe at its best, and never the woodcock.

Plovers migrate in large numbers, but in this neigh-
bourhood they are usually seen in small companies, and
are noticeable for their power of sustained and graceful
flight. When alarmed they will circle round and round
at some distance from the intruder who has frightened them,
but if satisfied that there is little or no danger will return
and alight within a gunshot or two of the place from which
they were put up. They run as well as they fly. In days of
old it was by no means an uncommon thing to see a little
congregation of them on the Racecourse if the ground were
-damp enough to attract them. I have even seena few on the
cricket ground itself, once when a match was in progress!
Unless persecuted, they are not very difficult to approach, and
hence there is no great difficulty in bagging them. Ioncesaw
one knocked over by a marble shot from a boy’s catapult!
When wild, shooting them is a different matter.

Another plover of almost world-wide fame is the lap-
wing or peewit, the Dix-huit, as the Frenchcall him. Tech-
nically he is of the allied genus Vanellus, and is further
distinguished by the term Cristatus, or crested. Some
people know him asthe green plover, green being prominent
in his upper markings. But by whatever name he is known,
the peewit is a handsome bird, and well worth watching
through a good glass. Heis somewhat shy and does not

88 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

allow visitors too near, especially where he has learnt the
deadly effects of modern firearms. Unlike the golden plover,
the peewit has four toes, the one behind being fully developed..
Seen at his best, and when quite unconscious of the watching
intruder, the peewit shows to great advantage. In the first
place there is a fine crest on the top of his head, and this he
can erect at will. There is a bright metallic green and purple
lustre in the darker parts of the back, the head, and the
breast, but these are brightened by lighter coloured feathers
round and beneath the eye and ear, though even these
feathers are speckled with black. The primary wing feathers
have a whitish tip to them, otherwise they area glossy black.
Thetailisblackand white with coverts of a rufous tinge. When
on the wing the black and white markings are as distinct as
those of the magpie. No other bird could possibly be mistaken
for a peewit on the wing, the form of the body and wings,,.
together with the peculiar method of flapping them, being
entirely unique. Peewits are essentially gregarious. Even
in the breeding season they keep more or less together, and
vast numbers of their eggs are taken for the London market,
plovers’ eggs being considered more or less of a dainty, thus.
leading, it is to be feared, to the robbing of many other nests
besides those of V. Cristatus. The true-born Cockney is
easily deceived respecting all matters relating to country life.

It is not a common thing to find many peewits in the
immediate neighbourhood of Shanghai at any time, but in
some parts of the province they live and thrive in great
numbers. They are as well known as the partridge for their
cleverness in drawing off either dogs or men from their nest
and young. In late spring and early summer one sees great
numbers of them in the moister parts of lower Siberia
through which the railway runs. There in marshy districts
they probably find ample room for nesting free from all
interference except that of their natural enemies, hawks,
weasels, etc.

A third plover must not be omitted from our little
catalogue—the grey peewit (Chettusia cinerea). Readers
will find one specimen in the Shanghai Museum in the case
in the S.E. corner. The grey peewit is longer in the legs.
than his cousin, and altogether different in plumage. His
head and back are grey, but there is a very dark patch on
his breast, though lower down he is quite white. Both tail
and wings are tipped with black. The body is bigger than-
that of the peewit, buf not very much. In my own experience
the bird is not common in this neighbourhood. I shot one:
once after a somewhat long and difficult stalk, and sent it to
be stuffed. There is nothing particularly attractive in the
plumage of the grey peewit, yet its comparative rarity and

PLOVERS. 89

the great height at which it stands mark it out at once from
the common run of winter plover visitors.

It will be necessary to return to the plovers before
proceeding to the consideration of other allied species, but
as our autumn nights will soon be vocal with the cries and
calls of migrating flights, a word or two about their varied
voices will prove of interest. I know of no better authority
on this matter than the Scottish naturalist, Thomas Edward,
who has been immortalized by Smiles. “You could hear the
shrill whistle of the redshank,” he says, “the bright carol
of the lark, the wire-like call of the dunlin, the boom of the
snipe, and the pleasant peewit of the lapwing. . . . The
sandpiper screamed its kittie-needie, the pipit its peeping note,
whilst the curlew came sailing down the glen with his shrill
and peculiar notes of foo-elie poo-elie coorlie coorlie wha-up.”
In another place he speaks of the “harsh scream of the heron,
the quack of the wild duck, the birbeck of the muirfowl, the
wail of the plover, the curlee of the curlew, the piping of the
redshank and the ring dotterel, and the fleck-pleck of the
oyster catcher.”

Not a few representatives of these pass over us during
the autumn migration, and it is at night that we hear them
best of all. If any pass during the day—which is doubtful—
their cries are lost in the noises of the streets, but in the night
they are so clear as to frighten superstitious Chinese.
Occasionally an observant westerner looking up may seea flight
crossing the face of the moon at a great height. Whimbrel,
curlew, dotterel, and other plovers form probably the
mass of those we hear. Theducks and geese do not come
till later.

CHAPTER XXIII.

PLOVERS AND SANDPIPERS.

One of the prettiest of the common plovers is the dotterel,
our eastern variety being known as Aigialitis veredus or by
other classical names according tothe taste of the ornithologist.
Dotterels are three-toed, and some authorities separate them
intoadifferent groupbythemselves. They are not quite so big
as golden plovers are in England, the female being the larger
and the finer looking bird. The eastern representative has
a white head and neck with a ruddy chestnut breast terminated
by a black belt, the remainder of the under parts being white.
The upper colouring is mainly brown in tint, the wings being
darker and the legs a yellowish white. The main distinction,
however, is the ruddy breast. One may at times in the proper
season see bunches of them being hawked about the street
for sale. They migrate in immense numbers.

When the world was young, and man in a state of such
innocence, from a sporting point of view, as the Chinese
villager is to-day (for the simple reason that he cannot
afford to buy a gun) the dotterel seems to have grown up
under an assurance of human harmlessness. This hereditary
belief remained longer than the innocence afore-mentioned,
and the consequence was that the birds retained their trust
too long. Then, of course, they were called fools for their
trustfulness, “dotterel” and “dotty” being different forms of
the same word. It is curious that some kinds of birds should
thus continue to be apparently without fear of man. I have
caught a “booby” myself on a ship’s rail, its name being
perfectly descriptive. But the dotterel is by no means a
fool where its young are concerned. Even so acute an
observer as Thomas Edward, to whom reference has already
been made, was once misled by one. Hewas on one of his
many naturalist wanderings when one day there rose near
him only to drop a few yards off, hobbling and tottering as
if wounded, a dotterel. He started in pursuit, and the same
thing happened again and again. Edward really thought the
bird was wounded by the shot of a friend which he had heard

PLOVERS AND SANDPIPERS. OT

just before, but on meeting the friend he learnt that the bird
shot at was a tern, not a dotterel. “But,” the friend added,.
“T found anest and the young of that bird as I came along.”
They went back, and it was found to be within three yards:
of the spot from whence Edward had put up his bird,.
evidently the mother, and evidently not a “dotterel” in the
depreciative sense.

Another pretty little plover is the ringed plover. There
are two kinds, major and minor. The so-called “ring” is
a circlet, more or less complete, of black feathers round the
breast and shoulders with a thinner white one above round
the neck. The main colouring on the back is the slaty grey
of so many of these birds, and that below white. These are
perhaps the shortest-billed of all the plover tribe. Very
dainty little creatures they are, running swiftly, flying
gracefully, and sometimes whistling shrilly when on the wing..
There are at least a dozen varieties of ringed plovers known
to naturalists. 4 gialitis placidus is another of them common
in China from north to south. This is known to some as.
Hodgson’s ringed plover. As.a rule it is not much more.
than six inches long. Still another, 44. Mongolicus, or the
Mongolian plover, is very common over.many parts of Asia
and even Australia. A great many find their way to the
Shanghai market. A. cantianus may be known by the white
ring round the neck and an incomplete black one. This is
one of the so-called sand plovers of which.there are many
species scattered about the world. They are all shore birds.

More or less allied to the plovers are the sandpipers..
The commonest is the jerky little gentleman which gets up..
in front of one’s houseboat when it is going up a creek, flies.
on a hundred yards or so just skimming over the surface of
the water and then alights, to repeat the operation till it
is tired of the game, when it doubles back in order to be able
to indulge its entomological researches undisturbed till the
next boat comes along. Most local sportsmen know it as the-
snippet. It stays with us throughout the year, and may often
be observed busily searching along the water’s edge for
food during the summer season. .

A much bigger bird is the large-billed knot, Tringa:
crassirostris, which is comparable in size with the golden
plover. The ordinary knot, Tringa canutus might, but for
its short bill, be mistaken for a snipe. Its classical title gives
an excuse for deriving its English name from Canute, the
old form of which was Cnut or Knut. So far as I know,.
however, there is no sufficient ground for unquestioning
acceptance of this derivation. T. acuminata, or the russet-.
headed sandpiper, is another visitor of this wide genus.
T. alpina is the well-known dunlin, called also T. cinclus.

92 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

He is considerably smaller than the knot. The red-necked
‘stint is known as T. ruficollis. Dunlins collect on the sea-
‘shore in immense numbers, and a flight of them in fine
weather when their silvery white under covering may be
-seen is something to be remembered. They are very noisy
‘birds as a rule. One of the sandpipers, T. subarquata, is
‘known as the curlew sandpiper, or by some as the pigmy
curlew. It is much the same size as the dunlin, and has
markings more or less like those of the curlew, the mingled
browns on the back, the speckled throat, and the white under
covering. One other must be named, T. subminuta, or
T. pygmaea, a diminutive little fellow with a spoonbill. He
is known as the spoon-billed sandpiper, is about the size ofa
snippet or smaller, his characteristic being the spreading
-out of the last half inch or so of his bill until the breadth
is perhaps three quarters of an inch. Temminck’s stint,
T. Temminkii, is also known in theeast. It is approximately
‘the size of the dunlin. Pseudoscolopax semipalmatus, the half
web-footed “false snipe,” is a long-legged handsome bird,
with snipe colouring on the back, but with head and breast
.a sort of ruddy chocolate.

There are still others to be’noticed from amongst the
many shore and marsh birds which visit us in their semi-
annual wanderings. But those already named are enough
‘to give some idea of the variety to be found. Earlier in the
year the snipe and woodcock came in for their share of
-attention, and there is no need to repeat what was then said.
But the sportsman, of course, will not forget that however
‘many kinds of plovers and other long legs there may be to
attract him, there are also, in variable numbers according to
the conditions prevailing, his old friends the long bills. And
there is this consolation always, at least in Shanghai and its
neighbourhood, the birds shot are either going to or coming
fromtheir breeding places. They arenot being killed, therefore,
in the breeding season. I havean old encyclopaedia of sport
in which the writer has the conscience to pen the following :—
“As a summer shooting we hardly know a more lively or more
amusing one than pulling down the plover. Like most other
‘shooting at birds on the wing, it requires both tact and habit.
A dog assists your success, particularly, it is said, in the
breeding season.” The unfeeling scoundrel! Luckily we have
a close season now by law—not in China unfortunately,
except so far as the Shanghai Municipal Council can make
one; but in the minds of all sportsmen of feeling, legal
restrictions are unncessary.

Still another excuse, or rather two excuses, for shooting
snipe, plover, and their congeners, if excuse were needed,
‘are to be found in the vast numbers of these birds and their

PLOVERS AND SANDPIPERS. 93

excellence for the table. The numbers of migrating waders
every year could surely be counted in thousands of millions.
They stretch in a dotted line right round the world so far as
its land portion is concerned, for they are found regularly
going southward at this time of the year, in America, Asia,
and Europe, their main breeding places being the vast
wastes in or near the Arctic circle. As to their eating, I have
already given my opinion, but as that is far less enthusiastic
than the verdict of some others, I may be permitted to
transcribe an old French dictum taken from the encyclopaedia
afore-named, “Qui n’a pas mangé de vanneau (lapwing,
especially), ne sait pas ce que gibier vaut.”

Shore shooting anywhere near Shanghai is apt to
be disappointing. Cover is non-existent in most places,
and once birds are wild there is no chance of getting
within gunshot. It happens at times, however, that along
the sea-wall tempting bits of marshy ground are to be
found, and then there may be a chance under cover of the
“wall” to get on terms with some of the many waders. I have
got redshank and whimbrel by that means, and on one occa-
sion when the land round about was thirsty with drought,
whilst there still remained water along the inner side of the
wall, I had the best half mile’s snipe shooting that ever fell to
my lot. In the creeks round about, also, there was a chance
at any time of finding teal or duck, whilst an occasional crane
might be seen.

But for those who like mud-larking, marsh shooting beats
most shore work. Inthe first place you never know on a
Kiangsu marsh what is going to get up. It may bea pelican
or a peewit, a snipe or a snippet, a pheasant or a falcon. There
may besnipe bythedozen, there may be none. Plovers of sorts
arecertain to beseen, perhapsarail or two or amoorhen. Hares
occasionally bolt from where you would least expect them,
and from bis of dry ground a quail will whirr off, or more
commonly a pair of them. A hen harrier or two are almost
certain accdmpaniment. So there is all the charm that
variety can give. But one must be in the mood for it or
there is little enjoyment. Perhaps the best preliminary to
success is to get into the nearest mud hole on landing and
flounder about for a minute or two until thoroughly saturated
at least up to the knees. There will be no lurking desire for
that picking of the way which is certain to find you looking
for firm ground when you should be all eyes and ears for
whatever may be flushed. Many a chance has been missed
through this. If the sportsman is a bit of a botanist as well
as a shot, he will, every now and then, come across marsh
plants which will appeal to him by their novelty as well as
their beauty, so that he will have more than one string to his

94 WILD LIFE IN CHINA,

bow. There is, besides, an added pleasure to marsh shooting
in this province. One is nearly sure to have the ground to
himself, and there are no grave-mounds. There is therefore
little chance of having shots spoilt by finding an old woman
or a small boy ina line with the muzzle of the gun. The
floundering wanderer may splash and splutter, but he
congratulates himself on being monarch of all he surveys.
Then, just as he slips down into a particularly soft spot, up
goes ateal. One hurried shot is followed by another more
carefully aimed, and Querquedula crecca joins the snipe, the
plovers, a rail, and a pheasant already gathered.

—~ Cpe e +

CHAPTER XXIV.

CURLEWS, WHIMBRELS.

In all deltas there is a line which, as a classical writer
once put it nec tellus est nec mare, is neither sea nor land,
that delightful admixture of water, sand, mud, and the
creatures that live therein which long-legged and long-billed
birds love. Here, when it suits them, they congregate, at
times accompanied by myriads of true water fowl, the
swimmers that is to say. Here in China there is less of this
kind of ideal haunt than might be expected, less than may
be seen in European and American deltas, for the simple
reason that China is the land of the Chinese, and where. in
other parts of the world delta land would be left to drain
itself, here it is taken in hand as a huge sponge might be,
squeezed dry, and occupied. But this wandering from
curlews to coolies must be checked. I have merely suggested
it for a purpose, not that the reader should have his attention
taken from the bird to the man, but that he should, by every
polder which he will see if he visits the Kiangsu coasts, be
reminded that the presence of man means sometimes the
absence, sometimes the comparative rarity, of certain species
of birds. The wilder the land, for example, the better the
curlew likes it. He does not draw the line too strictly, but
like the American backwoodsman, he thinks if there are men
within a mile or two of him, the world is getting too crowded.
That is probably the reason why in the thickly settled parts
of the province one rarely if ever comes across the curlew.
Personally I have never seen one anywhere near Shanghai.
Whimbrel are sometimes as common as snipe in spring, but
there is a big difference between the whimbrel and his com-
paratively giant-like relative.

If there is any sportsman who does not admire the
curlew I have yet to meet him. If there is one who never
says hard words of him, he likewise isa rarity, for it is
tantalizing to see, as may be seen in winter when the birds
have become gregarious once more, an assemblage of scores
without the faintest chance of getting in range. Curlews
lovethe wilds, whether upland moors or long stretches of coast.
In either of these placesthey can see the approach of an enemy
from afar, and as they are always on the watch, getting to
close quarters is a difficult matter.

96 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

A picture of a full-grown curlew in good condition is a
picture indeed. There are none of the gorgeous tints of the
pheasant to dazzle the eye, no tropic or metallic lustre to
astonish with its brilliancy; indeed the colours of the curlew
are homely in the extreme, simple browns, greys, and whites,
with a dash of gold in the bill, and all arranged in sucha
manner, so lined and dotted, and dashed with lights and
darks that, squatting on the bare sand, the curlew might well
be mistaken for a little hummock of sandy weeds left by the
tide. It is not for colour that the curlew demands our
admiration, but forform. His classical title Numenius means
“ike the crescent shape of the new moon” and has special
reference to the beautiful curve of long bill. This may
extend from six inches to nearly a foot, and is but one of the
several curves which a draughtman’s eye loves to follow.
From the base of the bill there is a gentle rise over the top
of the head followed by a delightful curve round to the junction
of the neck with the body, then another, more abrupt, joining
that of the back and terminating at the tail. The frontal
curves round the neck, breast, and belly are equally delicate.
Please don’t take this description to read in frontof specimens
to be met with in collections, otherwise the results may be as
disappointing to the reader as they would certainly be detri-
mental to the descriptive fame of the writer. Stuffed birds
too often are no more like their living representatives than
a scarecrow is like aman. That is generally the misfortune
of the taxidermist, who perhaps has never in his life seen a
living specimen, which also accounts, of course, for the
unnatural attitudes in which both draughtsmen and taxiderm-
ists sometimes present their efforts to us.

As a bird for the table the curlew has size to recommend
him, for he runs from a foot and a half to over two feet in
length. The biggest whimbrel, onthe other hand, rarely exceeds
the size of the smallest curlew. In England the common
curlew is known as Numenius arquata, but his representative
here is called by Pere David, N. lineatus, the whimbrel being
N. phoeopus, the “dark faced.”

In form and general appearance the whimbrel is much
like the curlew, proportionally a little thicker in body perhaps,
and the markings are much the same except that the darker
parts of the wing coverts are less marked in the whimbrel
than in the curiew. Like that of its larger cousin, its habitat
is very wide, varying as it does

“From Greenland’s icy mountains

To India’s coral strand.”
In April it may frequently be met with in this province when
on its way up north. Amongst its favourite spots then are
the newly flooded paddy fields, but it is characteristically

CURLEWS, WHIMBRELS. 97

wary, and but for the cover of clumps of trees, bamboos or
the more solid shelter of a grave mound the sportsman would
have difficulty in getting within range. Late August and
September nights are often vocal with their cries as they
move back on the return journey. A man who can imitate
their call may frequently lure them near enough to get a
shot. In weight they are about the same as the woodcock,
from twelve to fourteen ounces or thereabouts. Seebohm
mentions meeting the whimbrel in his Siberian wanderings,
but he says nothing of the curlew.

Another long-legged wading bird which may be found
in our cooler seasons is the stilt, whose name suggests its
height. Its long thin shanks may reach to ten inches,
perhaps a foot, yet its body is but the size of a lapwing’s.
In full plumage it is a bird of startlingly strong contrasts,
for whilst the breast and underparts are the purest white,
the back and wings are of the darkest green, so dark as to
be practically black. Indeed Himantopus candidus, or
H. melanopterous, is known in England by the name “Black
winged stilt.” When alarmed, it is the picture of alertness,
standing as it does at the full height of its long legs and
extended neck, its keen outlook all round taking in every
chance of a surprise, its bright eyes, with their scarlet irises,
watching without cessation the distant cause of alarm.

In another branch of the same family as the stilts there
is another curious summer visitant, the jacana, or water
pheasant. There is a pair in the Shanghai Museum, and
the remarks previously made‘respecting the art of stuffing
may be taken in connexion with this pair. If the visitor
remembers that the jacana is described by David as “un
magnifique oiseau,” he will see exactly the point of my
remarks. Technicallyourjacanaisknownas Hydrophasianus
Sinensis, or H. Chirurgus. Chocolate browns, whites, and
orangeare the colours which outwardly make the jacana what
he is, but his chief peculiarity will be found in his feet, the
toes of which are abnormally long and fine, and as though
that were not enough they are terminated by claws which
in themselves are equal in length to the whole toe in some
birds. The object of this immense spread of support below
is seen in an instant when the bird is found in its natural
haunts. Curiously enough the only occasions when J have
been able personally to examine it have beenat wideintervals
but always on the same spot, the lake-like “harbour” at
Bing-wu, where the meeting creeks widen out and a good
deal of space is covered during the hot weather with floating
growth. It is on this that the water-pheasant is at home. It
is here that he may be seen walking—perhaps stalking isthe
better word—over the green growth in search of food. His

98 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

“pheasant” appellation is derived from the length of his two
long tail feathers, which are carried in a graceful curve as
the cock pheasant sometimes carries his. Through a glass
on each occasion I had a good look at this most interesting
creature. He seemed perfectly at home, taking no notice
of the passing boats, norheeding in any way the native noises
round about. If alarmed, jacanas dive, and remain out of
sight, under the weeds, etc., probably withthe bill out of water,
for a considerable time.

One other cool weather visitor demands notice before
this chapter is closed, the not less remarkable than beautiful
avocet. The most striking peculiarity in this bird is noted in
its classical name Recurvirostra avocetta, the curve of the bill
being in the direction opposite to that of other birds, viz.
upwards. At a distance it looks exactly as ifin place of a
bill the bird had a cobbler’s awl sticking out in front of its
head. There is not the slightest need to suppose that this is
an abnormality due to accident in the beginning for just as
the long down-curved bill of the curlew is fitted for deep
probing, so the recurved bill of tbe avocet is fitted for surface
scooping especially in shallow water. Nature rarely, if ever,
makes mistakes, and there is no need to suppose one here.
The avocet is very distinetly marked, pied in black and white,
with a warm brown patch on the back. Its legs are long but
less so than those of the stilt. It isa splendid runner, and, like
practically all birds of its family, can swim if necessary. This
it does with a backward and forward motion of the head
just as one sees in a moorhenvunder similar circumstances.
In weight the avocet is much the same as the woodcock

SS Ste

(CHAPTER XXV.

BUSTARDS, RAILS, ETC.

The world seems to have conceded the kingship of all
winged creatures to the eagle, but, so far as I know, there
has been no definite choice made as the monarch of game
birds. What shall we say of the bustard? At his very best
he stands from three to four feet in height, his outspread
wings may measure even up to six feet, and his weight to
thirty pounds! Surely those are pretty solid claims. Ashe
is graminivorous, living mainly like our own barn-door fowls,
and our common partridges and pheasants, upon grain and
vegetable diet, his flesh is comparable with theirs. Add to
all these attractions the fact that he is difficult of approach,
and what more could the sportsman require? One thing
more. That he should be plentiful, that there should be no
fear of extinction when man’s hunting fever is on. Well,
that too, is granted, for of bustards the name isJegion. They
pair off, or divide up into little parties of females each with
itslordand master for the breeding season, but they congregate
again during the winter months into parties running from a
half dozen or so to scores, or possibly hundreds.

Like the curlew, the bustard is a bird of the wilderness.
He loves the open country. Whilst he was yet a denizen of
Great Britain, our broad open downs and fens were his
favourite haunts. Salisbury Plain was one of these. But
what with enclosures, with increased population, with more
‘deadly weapons, and other deterrents, the bustard has
forsaken its old British haunts, and if some dim stirring of
instinct were now to direct one to our shores, the chances
are that, instead of welcoming the long-lost friend, our insane
gunners and collectors would assemble in their hundreds
each intent on the acquisition of a dead trophy over which
he could gloat and about which he could boast. All the old
tricks for getting within gunshot would be tried, the farmer’s
cart, the stalking horse or cow, and so on, for whilst the
bustard very rightly objects to the presence of man, he is
quite tolerant of what we call the lower animals. This
sometimes brings about his downfall even in China, for behind
the cover of a lumbering, nose-ring-directed buffalo it is
possible at times to get near enough for a shot. The bustard

100 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

is too heavy to be very rapid in his movements. Old writers
curiously contradict each other on this point. Some say that
the bustard used to be run down by greyhounds, even their
great speed being taxed tothe utmost. Others, and these are
probably correct, say that it neverattempts escape by running
but takes to flight at once. Its Latin name Otis tarda, the slow,
or lazy bustard, is sufficently characteristic. Indeed even our
English name comes from the Latin through the French,
though there must have been a British or Saxon name besides.

So great is the bustard’s aversion from man that there
are several cases on record of attacks made by the bird on the
human biped. In one of these the bustard was captured and
tamed. It has never been my good fortune to meet witha
live bustard in any of my wanderings, and in consequence
all that is said here is second-hand. But I am told that in
favourable seasons bustards are to be seen down by the sea-
wall, and it is quite a common thing for them to be found in
our Shanghai markets during the winter, figuring in the lists
as wildturkeys. Nature has marked the bustard much as she
has marked the quail, the partridge, and other birds living as
arule on the ground. The colouring is as protective as itis
delightful to all who look at it with an eye to the appreciation
of its purpose. Barred browns and black cover the upper
parts, the under, as usual, being much lighter. The only
exceptions that I know of to this rule of dark above, light
below, are to be found in one or two of the plovers, the
golden plover being one. The male bustard has some loose
ornamental feathers emerging below the eye and hanging
gracefully down the neck. The little bustard is a somewhat
handsomer bird, with a very effective black and white bib or
collarette, but is not, I think, found in China at all. McQueen’s
bustard which is much smaller, and has almost a mane of
ornamental feathers, is common in western Asia, but not I think
so fareastasthis. Ishouldbe quite prepared to learn that the
Tartars and probably even the northern Chinese are accus-
tomed to hunt the bustard by the help of falcons and trained
hawks. In this neighbourhood, I expect, our market supplies
are trapped in some way.

Turning to the rail family and its friends we come to a
variety of birds interesting ina number of ways, but not birds
that provide much sport. They are difficult to flush but easy
to shoot, and for this reason are usually left alone. Our
common landrail or corncrake is not numbered amongst the
avian family of China, the bird which to my boyish mind was
“the bird-that-never-slept,” for it never seemed to matter
what time I awoke in the night, the “crake-crake,” “crake-
crake,” was sure to be keeping up its endless monotony. But
the water-rail (Rallus aquaticus) we have under the name

BUSTARDS, RAILS, ETC. 101

of R. Indicus,a shy, retiring bird never found far from ponds,
lakes, reed-beds, etc. and very difficultto putup. I have spent
half an hour or more in the attempt to flush.a bird of whose
whereabouts toa few yards I was quite certain. At last the
search is successful, and the poor little frightened thing,
convinced at last that skulking is useless, takes to its wings.
What a contrast to the dart of the swift-moving snipe, the
spring ofa teal, the bustling rush of a cock pheasant, or even
the whirr, from under your very foot almost, of a quail! The
rail flies asthough his weight were lead and, from the dangling
of his legs, half the lead might be tied to his toes. One
doesn’t shoot such as these except on rare occasions for the
specimen case. But it is interesting work to prove to them
that wings are really given to be used on occasion. The most
difficult task of this sort that ever fell to my lot, was the
discovery of a specimen of the little rail, Porzana Pygimaea.
This required the aid of a keen working pointer, and was at
last so successful that the tiny little creature did get up, all
arms and legs apparently, a must amusing sight, to be left
alone of course, almost with an apology.

Another English bird,the moorhen,orwater-hen(Gallinula
chloropus)iscommoninChina. I have very early recollections
ofthe moorhen, of her quiet habits, her nestamongst the rushes,
to which I used to wade sometimes to steal eggs—and very
good eating they were—of her power of concealment, and on
one occasion of the curious effect that pursuit hasonher. I
was hunting bare-legged and bare-handed for one in a ditch,
and suddenly came upon her motionless as if dead. I picked
her up and took her to the house, and there it was discovered
that she was very much alive! This curious hypnotic state has
been commented on by many observers, but I have never as
yet met with any really satisfactory explanation of it.
Moorhens, notwithstanding their general air of retirement,
are quite willing to be friendly and trustful. Witness those
to be seen in St. James’s Park in London. Two years ago,
I found it most restful after a hard day to go there and wander
about or sit watching the perfectly fearless manner in which
these and other retiring birds treat that portion of the human
race which has been truly civilized by the London police.

A taller, and slightly bigger bird, with far longer toes,
is the water-cock, Gallicrex cristatus, or Gallinula cinerea.
Heis fairly common during the warmer months, andespecially
in spring time may be found of an evening stalking about the
paddy fields. He is browner in colour than the moorhen, and
not nearly so dark. His one ornament is a greenish yellow
ball of fleshy matter above the bill which shrivels up to
almost nothing when heis dead. He is more often heard than
seen, for his call is loud enough and lugubrious enough to

102 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

draw attention at any time, but, for reasons above given, one
does not shoot him as arule. The only specimen I have ever
bagged was for purposes of stuffing. He was got many
years ago on a paddy field now occupied by part of the eastern
side of the Shanghai railway station!

The white-breasted moorhen, G. Phoenicura, or Erythra
Phoenicura, is another bird common enough in China. It
seems to have all the characteristics of its better known
relative, the ordinary moorhen. Last spring when two orthree
of my family were with me at the hills, we made a careful stalk
one day after Erythra. She was supposed to be in or near
to a fairly thick clump of bamboos not far from the junction
of two large creeks, and with lots of cover everywhere in the
immediate vicinity. There was everything in favour of the
bird, therefore, but the hunt was successful, and madame
moorhen with her white throat finding herself practically
hemmed in went up, and gave us all a good view of herself,
which was all we wished.

Other members of this interesting family are the coots
(Fulica atra). Of no use whatever when brought to bag, the
coot is usually left alone. Rallina Mandarina is Swinhoe’s
name for a species differing in some respects from the other
rails, and there are still others, David placing the number
known in China at eleven. As has been said, they are not of
a sort to attract the sportsman out only for blood, but when
ornithology conquers sport the rails are as interesting a
study as any I know.

Learn oo

CHAPTER XXVI.

QUAILS.

“Come out, tis now September;” so runs the first line
of what used to be an extremely popular part song, dealing
with the delights of the autumn, its harvests, its blaze of leaf
colour, and its sport. “St. Partridge’s Day,” or the first of
the ninth moon, has long been famous as the end of the close
season for Perdix cinerea, our common partridge. England,
Scotland, and Irelandareat one in thus protecting the partridge,
and from 2nd February to 31st August forbid under penalties
the killing ofasingle one of the family. Grouse have their close
season from the 11th December to the 11th August, but the
quail, with which gallant little bird we now have to deal, is
in England placed merely under the Wild Birds’ Protection
Act, and this safeguards it only between the 2nd March and
the 31st July. Ireland, wiser in this as in some other things,
honours the quail with the same protection as is given to
larger game, from 11th January to 19th September. This
is ample for the safety of the species, and at the same time
provides space enough for winter shooting. China, of course,
has no close time for anything, not even missionaries! So
far as the quail is concerned, our own Municipal Council has
been careless in its duty. It has done what it could for the
pheasant and the partridge, but it has left quail to the tender
mercies of the native pot-hunter and the miscreants who
support him. Doubtless the Council would reply that the
quail is migratory and needs no protection, but this is only
a partial truth. I have proved by personal observation that
some quail do remain in this neighbourhood throughout the
year. By all means, therefore, let them have just that
protection which the other game birds get, and which can be
given by a few scratches of the Secretary’s pen..

For this long digression, at the very opening, too, I
must apologize both to quails and to quail-lovers. But
forgiveness will surely be forthcoming for an effort, weak
though it be, to plead the cause of what is in every sense
of-the term a game bird. Coturnix communis, the common
quail, is famous alike in prose and poetry, in classics and
‘common talk, in history, in science, in the cock-pit, and the
pot. And he is good in all. Never, so far as I know, has a

104 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

bad word been said against him. If the Israelites in the
wilderness so gorged themselves with quail flesh as to breed
a pestilence, that was their fault, not that of the delicate
little bird. Higher critics, or lower, I forget which, have
suggested that possibly, the birds that came to the children
of Israel were not quail, but Syrrhaptes paradoxus, Pallas’s
sand-grouse, but that does not affect the argument.

It would be difficult to find any large stretch of country
between the Arctic and the Antarctic circles where the
quail has never been seen. He is a venturesome little
fellow and goes everywhere. In England, however, his
treatment has been such as to suggest to him that there may
be safer quarters elsewhere, and the result is that quails
have become somewhat rare. In Ireland, the more reasonable
legislation has had its reward, and there the birds are still
fairly numerous; indeed, the quail has sometimes been called
the partridge of Ireland. In China when circumstances are
favourable, quails are to be found in immense numbers. In
the lands surrounding the Mediterranean they are caught
whilst migrating, not singly or by dozens, but by hundreds
of thousands. Modern man in western lands, and even here
in the east, is accustomed to consider the quail somewhat of
a delicacy. It is not without interest, therefore, that we
read that in some of these Mediterranean lands, work-people
make a special provision in their agreements that they shall
not be given more than a certain fixed amount of quail’s flesh,
just as in England, centuries ago, apprentices had it inscribed
on their indentures that they were not to be fed on salmon
more than a specified number of times per week! Times
change, and we with them.

Thequailis so very familiar that little detailed description
of him is needed. He is the smallest of the true game birds,
measuring over all not more than about eight inches. How
very complete a protection may be his covering of ruddy
brownand straw colour, withdark shadings, isknown by all who
have ever had to look for him amongst his natural surroundings.
I once dropped one stone dead close by a grave mound.
There was, therefore, no doubt as to its whereabouts, and
yet when I came to look, no sign of the bird could I see. I
walked round and round the mound. Five or six times this
was repeated, and finally, just as the search was about to be
given up, and as I had returned to the spot where as I
thought the bird ought to be, there, sure enough it was,
lying at my feet. I had walked over it several times, but as
it happened to have fallen in a very natural position, its
protective colouring had provided a perfect example of the
difficulty of the problem, “Find the bird.” Many a similar
story could be related by all sportsmen who have had much

QUAILS. 105

to do with quail, and who do their own retrieving. Another
proof of the practical invisibility of the quail when on the
ground is provided by the frequent failure of the hen harrier
tofind them. One watches one of these handsome birds
quartering a patch of dried but uncut paddy. They cross
and recross the ground not more than a yard above it, much
as a well trained pointer or setter will work, yet they not
infrequently fail where man, thanks to the noise he makes,
will put up the birds. The main outward difference between
the male and the female quail is to be found in the two black
circlets round the throat of the former. These begin the
one on the outer, the other on the inner, side of one eye and
swing round to similar positions on the other side.

The males are said to precede the females in migrations.
Asa matter of fact the sexes seem to keep together only
during the breeding season, and it isa rare thing to find them
congregated in very large numbers. When the surroundings
are exactly to their taste quails will of course be found in
greater numbers, but so far as my own experience goes, they
never get up more than eight or ten together, and very
rarely more than three or four. JI once came across a
patch of standing wheat straw from which the ears only had
been removed. Here, as in additionto the grain that had
been shed there were many seeded wild plants, and perfect
protection from hawks, the quail were in hundreds, but
even then only bevies of six or eight were flushed at one
time. A recent writer in “The Field” has ventured an opinion
that only a thirteenth quail ought to be missed. One miss
out of thirteen may be allowed for accidents, etc. but I am
inclined to think the gentleman would change the percentage
after a little of such practice as I got on that afternoon.
When, with their shrill little cry, quail scuttle away in every
direction like sparks from a blacksmith’s anvil, the
sportsman is apt for a while to be bewildered. He looks at
this and aims at that: he changes his mind and determines to
bag a third, which is saved by the intervention of a fourth
and by that time all are out of range. Under ordinary
circumstances two or at most three get up together, and this
they do from close under one’s feet, or even behind one’s
back. This, of course, if there are no pointers or setters at
work. These useful assistants have quite as much partiality
for the scent of the quail as they have for that of the larger
game birds, and in days gone by when, in the province of
Kiangsu, pheasants were nearly as plentiful as barn-door
fowl, many men strongly objected to their dogs’ drawing
their attention to such small game. There is a fear, some-
times, that only partially trained dogs may get into bad
habits in the retrieving of quail. I had a young pointer with

106 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

me once, as keen as mustard, but the first quail he picked
up disappeared down his throat—beak, legs, feathers and all!

Above all things the quail likes a dry place on which
to bask. You may find hin in a marsh, but not in its
mud. You will also find him in cold weather in the most
sheltered corner of a field, or at any rate on the sunny side
of one of the raised pathways which divide fields in China.
Crisp feathery grassis a temptation, as is the fluffy stuff which
one finds here and there in the winter fields connected with
certain kinds of seeds. For the market, great numbers are
trapped or taken in nets, and sent in alive. Formerly
Shanghai shooting matches were at quails instead of pigeons,
but I do not remember one during the last fifteen or twenty
years, and a good thing too. The clay “pigeon” sérves the
purpose from a sporting point of view equally well, and even
better, andthere nolongerremainsthat disagreeable uneasines
which worries modern man when he kills unnecessarily. Even
the tiger, he remembers, never kills for mere sport. To the
Chinese, the quail is all that the game cock—or in fact any
cock—is to the Manila man, something which appeals to the
taste for blood and at the same time allows of unlimited
betting. We must not condemn too readily that of which we
have ourselves been guilty. Cockfighting has been put down
by law in England only since our fathers can remember, and
quail fighting will continue in China for many a decade yet.
But one is sorry for the bird: sorry that his tenacity, his pluck,
and his gameness generally should not be put to better purpose.

Besides the common quail there are in Chinathe Japanese
quail, a slightly different species, and the so-called Chinese
quail, Excalfactoria Chinensis, somewhat more handsome
in colouring than the others. An attempt was once made to
acclimatize the American “Bob White” quail here, a con-
siderably larger and more handsome bird, but the effort met
with no success.

Telos rv—

CHAPTER XXVII.

PARTRIDGES.

But for the fact that the “Bob White” is often spoken
of as a partridge, it would have been necessary to apologize
for introducing him first amongst the quails and then here.
As a matter of fact, however, this beautiful bird, of which
Americans have a right to be proud, is much nearer the
partridge in weight than he is to the quail, andin other ways
has real claims to one of his classical titles Perdix Virginiana,
the Virginian partridge. His re-introduction here, however,
is due to a desire to call closer attention to the experiment
mentioned in the last chapter. A few Shanghai sportsmen
conceived the idea that it might be possible to acclimatize
the Bob White in China. A committee was formed in the
year 1890, Dr. Ward Hall taking the chair: the necessary
money was forthcoming, and the order sent. No fewer than
425 birds were collected and sent from Chicago. There must,
unfortunately, have been gross ignorance or gross careless-
ness in transit, for from that time the story is tragical.
“Two coops, originally containing 36 birds each, arrived at
San Francisco on the 21st December with 43 dead and 29
live birds in them. On 27th December, 10 coops more were
received, containing 203 live and 150 dead birds. When they
were shipped by the ‘Belgic,’ 69 more had died, leaving
only 163 alive. When transhipped in Yokohama only four
birds were alive, and of these one died on the voyage, so that
of the 425 shipped from Chicago for the ‘Belgic,’ only three
reached this alive.” This trinity was turned loose, and an
“Express” issued imploring men to be pitiful if they happened
to flush either of them. As a guide it was mentioned that
the birds were about the size of the bamboo partridge. A
gleam of hope closes the chronicle. About a month later two
of them were seen, “strong on the wing.” Both might have
belonged to one sex: at any rate; I have never known of any
progeny. But apart from the terrible mismanagement that
there must have been, is not the story sufficiently encouraging
for at least one more effort to be made with all possible care,
and what is even more necessary, knowledge. The second
application should go to one of the ornithological societies in
the States, where, if my repeated experience of Americari

U

108 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

officialdom is any criterion, it will meet with the readiest
welcome, and be responded to in the most effective fashion.

The comparison of the Bob White with our local bamboo
partridge introduces us at once to that most interesting
member of the Chinese fauna. Bambusicola Thoracica, as
he is called, is, indeed, quite as interesting to us as his second
cousin, Perdix cinerea, is to friends in England. Perhaps
more so, for itis part of our nature to value anything in
proportion to the difficulty of its attainment. Now you may
walk stubbles in England—if indeed the modern machines
leave any—or better still, turnip fields, and with the aid of a
pointer or two may put up as many coveys as the land may
contain. Itisnotso with the bamboo partridge. Personally
I have never, not even once, flushed one of them except out
of thick cover. They doubtless do feed in the open, or near
it at times, but I cannot say when. Once flushed, they are
not difficult to hit though the flight is fairly rapid, and they
have a trick of getting up, as quail will do, in little bunches
close to your feet. Once down again, however, they will not
rise a second time unless very closely pressed. I have
thought at times when watching our larger breeds of sporting
dogs trying to find them in cover which hardly a terrier could
get through, that the ideal dog for that work would be a
carefully bred cross between foreign and native dogs,
provided the resultant progeny possessed the foreign nose
and intelligence in the native body. The cry of the bamboo
partridge is, as Pere David puts it, “une longue série de
notes percantes et différe totalement de celui de nos perdrix.”

I have mentioned the bamboo partridge as a local bird,
but that must be taken, by men resident in Shanghai, not to
mean the immediate neighbourhood of that city, but of the
province as a whole, and of Central China generally. I have
never seen onewithin 50 miles of the Settlement. Mr. Cornish,
of the Kiangnan Arsenal, and a friend of his a few years ago
introduced some bamboo partridges at a point not more
than a score or so of miles from us, where descendants of
them have since been seen by friends of my own. The exact
latitude and longitude of that spot however, is only to be
revealedin good time by the “longue série de notes percantes”
of Bambusicola thoracica himself!

One of the commonest of the partridge family to be found
in China is Perdix chukar, ov Caccabis chukar, which by some
ornithologists is likewise described by the tell-tale word,
“pugnax.” This variety is extremely plentiful in the N. W.
provinces and in Mongolia. Another kind of the bamboo
variety is well-known in the provinces west and south. This
is Bambusicola Fytchii. Bambusicola sonorivox, belongs to
Formosa. Thenearestapproachto the English bird. Perdix
&

ies

PARTRIDGES. 109

Barbata, which is plentiful in the north of China and:south
Siberia.

Partridges are believed to pair for life, and both parents
are most assiduous in their attention to their young. In
England, as a rule, there are from 12 to 20 eggs per nest.
More than this have been frequently found, but on such
occasions it is believed that two hens are laying in the same
nest. None of the partridges seem to care for life in the
woods. The Bob White loves to be near wooded stretches
of land, but he appears to find his living rather on their
borders than in them. The tree and bamboo partridges
like cover, but it is the cover of the jungle rather than of the
forest. They feed, as pheasants do, morning and evening.
About noon they like to be near water for their temperate
sip, after which a sunny bank with feathery grass is a great
attraction for the siesta which so many birds love. It is this
fact which makesafternoon shooting so much more productive
than that of the morn. I once saw a pointer draw so close
to a drowsy partridge that he finally made a dash and secured
her without a shot’s being fired, the bird being in perfect health
and feather. They are fully alive, however, to all dangers
when their little ones need protection. Then woe betide
crow, or cat, or even hawk which ventures near.

I may, perhaps, be pardoned for adding one more to the
stories of bird affection when young are endangered. The
incident happened to myself in 1902 when I was on leave in
England. I was sauntering along a green country lane in
Cheshire one summer day, when from the long grass by the
side of the track there went up with a whirr two partridges.
A moment after, the female was back over the hedge and on
the path with all the appearance of having a broken wing!
The deception was, however, a little “too thin” for so old a
bird as myself, and instead of trying to catch the wily dame,
I stood and watched her. She had made a lame attempt at
running from me, but this waiting and watching brought her
back. Two or three times she came near and retired, her
wing all the while trailing on the ground. Then, to see what
she would do, I make great pretence at looking for the young
ones in the grass. This was too much. She came running
up almost to my feet, and if there ever were a mute appeal
to human being to desist from evil, it was made then. At
this juncture the cock-bird returned. He perhaps would
have attacked, if the searching had been persisted in, for
there are many instances known of this having been done.
But I had caused alarm enough and gave up the pretended
attempt after the young to make a more real one after the
parents;, This, of course, was what they wanted, and after
arun of dwenty or thirty yards they both took wing and were

110 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

off over the hedge with—one could almost swear to this—a
very merry twinkle in their eyes.

As a boy, and somewhat given to trapping birds, I once
captured a partridge which had been foraging in my grand-
mother’s garden. With a true-bred country boy’s horror of
poaching—and this being only one step removed from it—all
kinds of penalties began to float through my mind. The fate
thathadovertaken certain sport-loving villagers loomed large,
withavisit to the magistrates, seven miles off, and, who knows?
thecounty gaol afterwards perhaps. Sothe matter was confided,
with no little trepidation, to the granny. She promised to be as
secret asthe grave, andacertain very nice roast that same day
removed all corporeal traces of the crime. People laugh at
or denounce game laws such as those of England, but they
have their good side. I have seen two or three times as
many game and other birds in 400 miles of English travel as
close watching showed in 4,000 miles in America. Possibly
the fact that the Transatlantic journeys were taken during
November and December may have accounted for much of
the scarcity, the migrants having gone. But the fact remains
that, as compared with England, some parts at any rate of
the United Statesare almostbirdless. Iwastoldin Washington
that idle negroes were mainly to blame for it. Personally I
came to the conclusion that the law was more to blame
than the negroes.

Before leaving the partridge altogether one would like
to have told of his wonderful charm as a pet. Many have
been tamed, and their owners have been enthusiastic in their
praise. That, however, was not in China.

eee CL 09,06 ADD

CHAPTER NNVIII.

PHEASANTS.

I know of no bird which tempts ornithologists deeper
into “The Encyclopedia Britannica” and similar weighty
tomes than the pheasant, the Phasian bird of the sporting
Romans. Men delight to wander back to old classical days,
to meander with the Phasis river through the meads of
Colchis, and so pass from the Caucasus Mountains across the
plains of Asia Minor to the shores of the Black Sea; for here,
so far as they knew, was the original home of the beautiful
birds to which the Phasis gave its name. Then come pages
and chapters of history telling of the early days when the
pheasant was introduced into Western Europe and so
reached England. There is no need for us to add to the
army of chroniclers: our object is rather chit-chat than
history of the encyclopedic order. Besides, we are in
China, and in a part of China in which Phasianus Colchicus,
the bird which we now somewhat arrogantly call the English
pheasant, does not exist, having yielded place this, side the
ninetieth degree of east longitude, say the meridian of
Calcutta, to its first cousin P. torguatus, the gentlemanly
bird with the clean white collar.

No fewer than 23 species of the pheasant family are
known to China’ and its immediate neighbours. It is true
that to sportsmen the word “pheasant” means, in ninety-
nine cases out of a hundred, P. torquatus, but such is the
interest taken in this king of sporting birds that the veriest
“griffin” is keen to know not only all that can be told about
that particular species, but all the family besides, especially if
there is the slightest chance that wanderings in China may
bring him face to face with them. And as railway construction
proceeds, this chance will steadily improve. We_ shall,
therefore, before indulging in any further remarks on the
birds already so well known, proceed to mention, with a few
necessary comments, the more important species within
Celestial borders. There are the so-called “Blood Pheasants”
for example (Ithagenes), represented in Tibet, and probably
west Szechwan by I. Geoffroyi, a bird which is more a
frequenter of trees than the ordinary pheasant is. The name
suggests red in the plumage, and it is indeed because of

112 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

the predominance of this colour that the name is given.
Another species of the same genus is J. Sinensis, which is
very plentiful somewhat farther north, in Shensi, etc. where
it loves the shelter of bamboos especially :f found on the
hillsides. Harking back to the south again, we come to
Yunnan and S.W. China generally, and there we light upon
a bird which though closely allied to the pheasants is not
really one, Pavo muticus, the Burmese pea-fowl, with the
gorgeous plumage, crest, tail, eyes, and all. Then there are
the monals—genus Lophophorus—of which one writer says,
“There are few sights more striking, where birds are
concerned, than that of a grand old cock (of this kind) shooting
out horizontally from the hillside 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.” It is represented in China by the L. Lhuysii
of Szechwan, Yunnan, and Kweichow. So-called “eared
pheasants” are represented by three species. The first of these
is Crossoptilum Manchuricum, a gentle, sociable bird found
on the hills of Pechili and in other parts of N. China. Hardy
enough to bear the cold of a northern climate, these birds
cannot boast of much of the gorgeousness lavished on their
cousins. They are, in fact, somewhat dowdy in comparison,
black, brown, and dirty white forming the protective covering
with which Nature has supplied them. C. Tibetanum 1s
entirely white except for the top of the head. Here again
in all probability the great artist had good reason for showing
the white feather in its literal sense. The third species,
C. auritum, of western China generally is drawn upon by
Chinese mandarins for feathers for their official hats. Of the
genus Pucrasia, the crested pheasants, Pere David describes
two species, P. Xanthospila, found living in pairs or singly
in north-western China and brought regularly to the Peking
market, an excellent game bird, and P. Darwini from the
two provinces directly south of us, Chekiang and Fukien.
Properly speaking, the golden pheasant, to which we now
come, is not one of the true pheasants, and is not scientifically
included with them but with the Reeves and some others in the
genus Thaumalea or Chrysolophus. T. picta or C. picta is
the choice allowed us in the case of the classical name of
that extremely beautiful Chinese bird. Though unknown in
this neighbourhood, the golden pheasant is very widely
distributed, being met with from S. W. China right across to
Korea or, as I suppose we should now call it, Chosen. The
golden crest and back, the brilliant red of the breast and
under parts, and the artistically mottled browns of the superb
tail of this species mark it out even from amongst its relatives
as a bird of striking beauty. The hens, as is the case with

PHEASANTS. 113

all the phéasants, except when a female takes her ‘lord’s
colouring, as occasionally happens, are far less conspicuous,

necessarily, since they have the incubation work to do, and
must not betray either themselves or their nests. The male
can at will erect his neck covering into a most remarkable
ruff, doubtless useful in a threefold manner, to attract his
lady love, to scare his rivals, and to provide some protection
when fights take place. Another of the genus, T. Amherstiae,
or C. Amherstiae, was named in honour of Lady Amherst. It
is in some ways even more striking than its golden relative.
Its tail feathers are something like three feet in length, and
broader than those of most other pheasants. Head, mantle,
scapulars, and chest are a dark bronze green, but there is a
long crest of blood red. A cape of pure white is margined
and barred across the middle with black, glossed with steel
blue. Rump and lower parts are buff, barred with dark
green. The bird is a native of Tibet and western China,
and is quite hardy.

The silver pheasant is of another genus still, and is
called by Pére David Euplocamus Nycthemerus. Fukien and
S. W. China form its chief habitat. It derives its common
name from the white back and tail. There is a rather long
crest of purplish black feathers, and the white ground of the
back is marked feather by feather with dark converging lines.
All the under parts are dark, the bird thus sharing with the
golden plover a not common distinction in this respect. As
a specimen in the Shanghai Museum shows, the silver
pheasant is one of the most strongly built of the whole family.
As a fighter it is said to be the equal of a game cock. There
is another species of the same genus found in Formosa and
known as E. Swinhoit.

The tragopans have two representatives, Ceriornis
Temminckii and C. Caboti. The different varieties of this
genus vary greatly in colour, but are alike in one respect,
their more or less striking adornment by means of spots on
their plumage. They have also “horns” which account for
one of their popular titles, horned pheasants. Inthe breeding
season the throat of the male is covered with a loose, brightly
coloured bib or lappet which hangs down several inches in
time of passion, but is much less conspicuous during the
winter. C. Temminckii, or Temminck’s tragopan, is as well
known a game bird in the S.W. provinces of China as Cabot’s
is in the S.E. districts, where it loves to make its home on
close covered hill-sides.

One more relative of the great pheasant family and we
shall have come to the end of our list. This is the only
representative described by David of the highly important
genus Gallus, or game fowls. He names it G. ferrugineus.

114 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

It is the Chinese representative of the red jungle fowl,
G. Bankiva, of which one needs but to see a picture to be
satisfied at once of its relationship to our barn-door breeds.
It is common in Cochin China, is known in Hainan and, I
believe, in the Philippines. Our game cock is perhaps its
closest domesticated relative.

If no other purpose has been served by the preceding
notes on China’s pheasants, they will have proved to demon-
stration that few, if any, lands can boast of any finer or wider
selection. China is so immense, her physical geography
presents such contrasts, and her latitude and longitude are
both so extensive that it is but natural that her varied climate
should agree with the needs of an equally varied selection of
birds. India is solely torrid; Europe is entirely temperate;
much of Siberia is quite arctic. At various times in the year,
and in various parts of the country China can boast of all
these and all their connecting links. She is torrid enough
during July and August to suit a salamander. In January
and February her northern districts are hyperborean. During
those same months her central! and southern parts vary from
the mildness of a winter in Torbay to the sub-tropical warmth
of Kwangtung and Hainan. Naturally such differences suit
here one, there another of the great gallinacean family, and
hence the richness of this particular branch of Chinese fauna.
With greater facilities for travel, we shall more and more
appreciate this marvellous wealth.

VSG Cs u—

CHAPTER NNIN.

PHEASANTS.—( Continued.)

Thetrue pheasants are proportionally as well represented
in China as the family in general. We have Reeves’s and
Elliot's pheasants, Phasianus decollatus, P. Sladeni, the
Formosan pheasant, and our ever welcome and well known
bird, P. Torquatus. A few words respecting each of these will
not be out of place, and we will take them in the order
given.

P. Reevesii, or the Reeves’s pheasant, is in some respects
the gem of the genus. When it is remembered that our
ordinary pheasant rarely reaches a total length of three feet
notwithstanding its fairly liberal allowance of tail, it will at
once be seen that the Reeves with an extreme length of eight
feet or more must be a noticeable bird. It is mainly in the
tail that the difference lies. Only the two central feathers
have this unusual length, the others being comparable in
that respect with those of the common species. But it is
not in measurement only that the Reeves pheasant deserves
attention. He is a strikingly handsome bird. Head all white
but for a patch of scarlet round the eye, and a black line
leading to the poll, and there joining a glossy gorget of the
same colour. The back is resplendent in yellow feathers
with rich velvety black edgings. The primaries and wing
coverts suggest the tints of the common pheasant, though
there are some snowy white markings on the under parts
mingled with the same rich black which adorns the back.
The tail with its groundwork is beautifully barred with tints
of light and dark brown. It is.a pity that one has first of all
to get amongst the hills of N. W. China, Szechwan, or the
high border lands adjoining the Himalayas before one can
meet with so charming a creature. There it loves the hill-
sides, where cover is abundant. Like other pheasants,
P. Reevesii is a polygamous bird, and consequently pug-
nacious. Readers of old works on ornitholgy should remember
that he is variously described therein as P. superbus,
P. veneratus, or the barred-tailed pheasant. There is a
specimen in the Shanghai Museum, but the best I have ever
seen werein Mr.Styan’s collection once exhibited in Shanghai
many years ago. He had some excellent skins,

116 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

Elliot’s pheasant (P. Ellioti) was discovered in 1872
by the late Consul Swinhoe in the province of Chekiang, and
by Pére David during the following year in Fukien. The
latter sent a living specimen to the Jardin des Plantes in
Paris. The bird does not seem to be at all common. It is of
awild nature, migrating at times from one district to another,
and, like the silver pheasant with which it is sometimes
found, loves the cover of wooded hills. There is aspecimen
in the Shanghai Museum. Its total length is something less
than that of the ordinary pheasant.

For the “Pheasant without a Collar” (P. decollatus)
we have to go to Shensi and then south-west to Szechwan,
Kweichow, Yunnan, and farther westward still towards
Central Asia. It is somewhat smaller than our “collared”
bird, and differs from it in several respects in plumage, etc.,
but in some of the districts named it completely takes the place
of the finer bird. A specimen may be seen in the Museum.

Phasianus Sladeni is also known as P. elegans. 1 have
never seen a specimen, unless possibly a forgotten one in the
Natural History Museum at South Kensington. In China
it is confined to west Szechwan and Yunnan, and there,
according to Pére David, at a height of more than 4,500 ft. It
is only about two-thirds the length of the common pheasant.

The Formosan pheasant (P. Formosanus) has a collar
but is otherwise specifically different from its cousin
Torquatus, and is differently marked in a variety of ways.
The Japanese pheasant known as P. versicolor, is remarkable
for its green tints.

We now come to our common but much admired friend,
to many known especially as the China pheasant, the dainty
gentleman of our up-country search, P. Torquatus of the
white collar. It has already been remarked that P. colchicus,
the pheasant of the western lands, is practically shut off
from us by the meridian of Calcutta. West of that he rules,
east of it the pheasant world is divided as we have seen
amongst a gorgeous variety of remarkably handsome birds.
But commonest of all these, and certainly not the least
beautiful, is our well known friend, the bird which early
residents “in the country” about Shanghai, that is to say
near where the Honan Road runs now, used to see in the early
mornings feeding on the lawn!

People who only know pheasants as they are brought from
the market or exhibited in cabinets have but a very partial
idea of their true beauty. That can be realized only when
a perfect specimen can be seen at its best in its own natural
surroundings. It takes but an hour or two after death for
much of the glory:to disappear.. In England, where preserved
pheasants are almost as tame as barn-door fowls, there is-little

PHEASANTS. 117

difficulty in getting close enough to revel in the displayed
beauties of perhaps a score of cocks. It is different out here.
Only once have I been able to watch at close quarters the
movements of a full-grown cock-pheasant in his prime. I
was just crossing a reed-covered ditch, once upon a time in
mid-winter, when I saw flying straight towards me a fine
male bird. As luck would have it, he alighted within a yard
or two of me, and for several minutes I had the pleasure of
watching his display. Why he should have chosen .that
particular moment to strut about, backward and forward, in
the golden sunshine, I cannot tell, but there he was, all
unconscious of my presence, “showing off.” There might
have been a hen in the neighbourhood, but the time was
Christmas time, and if courting was in progress it was either
decidedly late or preternaturally early. A fully complete
description of such a bird is as unnecessary as it is impossible.
Here there will be no attempt at it. Suffice it to say that
five minutes’ of such pleasure is worth days of hard walking
over hill and dale, through copse and cover. A slight move-
ment on my part, and I was self-betrayed. The astonishment
which my visitor displayed when he found a “foreign devil”
close to him was only equalled by his hurry to get off into
the next province. In part payment for his performance the
charge of “villainous saltpetre” which might otherwise have
gone after him was withheld. But when birds were plentiful
it used to be by no means difficult to get distant views of
pheasants feeding in the early morning or evening up-country,
and then with a good glass there was ample opportunity for
study without alarm.

Seen in a coloured picture or preserved in a museum,
and away from its natural environment, it would seem.utterly
impossible for a male pheasant to hide himself amongst a few
tufts of dead winter grass. But, as every sportsman knows
to his loss, not only is hiding possible, but it seems as easy
and complete as if the earth had opened and swallowed up the
quarry he is so anxious to retrieve. A little explanation will
help in some small degree to show how thisis. The tints of
the pheasant contain red, blue, black, green, various shades
of brown, and yellow. Now all these except the black and
blue are to be found in the cover which the bird frequents.
The browns and yellows are plentiful enough amongst the
blades of grass and straw. The reds are no less common in
stalks and ground leaves, the greens fit in amongst those
hardy plants which defy frost and cold alike, whilst the blacks
and dark blues serve to represent the shadows and dark
places between the stalks and under the leaves of the plants.
My own experience in this, which has extended over nearly
half a century, is centred in one incident. I had dropped a

118 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

cock which ran to cover though hard hit. Quite half.an hour
was spent in looking for him, when finally as in a flash, his
tail was seen. After that the wonder was how he had been
overlooked: yet another pair of eyes called up for the sake
of experiment was unable to discover the bird even when
the looker was assured it was within a few feet of his nose!
On Christmas Day, 1908, I saw a hen pheasant running across
the Shanghai Recreation Club ground. She took shelter by
the little creek there, but, though there was absolutely no
grass cover, two of us were unable to find her though we
looked carefully for some time, Our common pheasant is to
be met with from Manchuria to Canton. Wherever he can
find suitable cover and opportunity enough to permit of
broods’ being safely raised, there he seems to thrive.
Conditions throughout so many degrees of latitude vary
immensely, but the pheasant is adaptable, and makes the
best of them all. What he cannot bear up against, what
indeed no bird can exist under, is persecution and murder
during the breeding season. It is nothing short of crime to
kill these birds during the months from February to October.
Yet there are people who not only do it but glory in it. We
had a French sportsman in Shanghai once, M. Déchaud of
the Messageries Maritimes, who prohibited the taking of
game on board the French mails during the close season, but
his truly admirable example has not always been followed,
and the result has been a steady decline in the number of
pheasants in this part of China and as far up the river as
Nanking and Wuhu. The Chinese Government should see to
it. The Shanghai Municipal Council does something, but
even here greater strictness should be observed, for no mercy
should be shown to the purveyor or the consumer of forbidden
game. Preservation is necessary to prevent extinction.

CHAPTER XXX.

PHEASANTS.—( Concluded.)

The largest bag of pheasants recorded in Mr. Wade’s
book, “With Boat and Gun in the Yangtze Valley,” is the
Ewo bag of 1889, when out of a total of 2,049 head there
were 1,801 pheasants. These, of course, were got in the
ordinary China fashion over dogs, out of cover, and in the
fields. Nothing was attempted in the form of driving,
except such ordinary beating of bamboos as can be done by
a few coolies. There were six guns, but only four shot
continuously, and the number of shooting days was twenty-
three. For other information respecting the sportsmen of
bygone days and the bags they got, together with everything
else in the way of sporting knowledge required in this part
of the world, the reader may turn with confidence to the
book above named.

My own experience has been with smaller parties and
not at the best time of year. The cream of the shooting is
to be got perhaps a little before Christmas. A great deal
depends on the condition of the crops. My best time amongst
the long tails happened one year after Christmas ina piece
of country along the Grand Canal between Kahshing and
Soochow, where at ordinary times one rarely found anything.
On this occasion, however, for some reason or other, a few
patches of paddy had been left, the only ones apparently in
the whole district, and to them pheasants from far and near
had been attracted. Ina couple of hours before sunset and
another couple of hours next morning twenty-five birds were
collected to a single gun. With a party directed with some
regard to strategy there might have been a very good bag
made on that occasion, for pheasants were as plentiful as
one could remember them within a dozen years after the
end of the Taiping rebellion. Then whole bouquets of birds
might be put up out of favourite pieces of cover, reeds, bamboos,
or what not. In the morning they might beseen running ahead
of sportsmen till they had reached what they thought a safe
distance to rise, or disappeared altogether in cover. Shooting
was comparatively easy in those days, and little was looked at
but pheasants, deer, hares, pig, and such water-fowl as got up
from creeks and ponds. Native hunters were few and far
between, and there was not the market demand there is now.

120 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

Since pheasants feed in the early mornings and evenings,
it follows that the best shooting is not to be got at those
times but during the middle part of the day when, after a
satisfactory breakfast—and pheasants have quite as good an
appetite as other birds—they are lying up for the siesta.
Sometimes cocks and hens go up together, but more often
they are found separately. Cocks, particularly if alone, seem
to have a special liking for little clumps of young bamboos:
hens, on the contrary, love a warm grassy bank such as
might otherwise contain quails. But it is not wise to attempt
too exactly to define likely places, for the pheasants at times
seem ubiquitous, and will rise from the middle of an open field
as readily as from the most tempting cover. In common
with partridges they appear to like a drink of water during
the heat of the day. It will not, of course, be news to the
experienced sport when he hears that the pheasant swims well.
That, however, isafact at which the beginner may besurprised. I
have seen on two or three occasions winged birds try to save
themselves by swimming across creeks, when their motion is
similar to that of the moor-hen, the head going backward and
forward in time with the movement of the feet. Some men
declare that they dive. All that I can say with confidence
respecting that is that, if they do, the fact accounts for the loss
of two or three birds that I can remember, one no later than
last season.

Their running powers are well known. <A hard chase
after an old cock is not a bad test of the wind of the sportsman
without a retriever. Once it was my fortune to lose a fine
bird notwithstanding the fact that I hada pointer. She was
old, however, and as the bird had a good start she actually got
off to cover a good seven hundred yards away, the dog giving
up the chase. On two occasions our winter visitors, the
so-called “Bromley” kite (a corruption of “Brahminy”),
have unintentionally retrieved birds for me, or rather have
shown where they were by their persistent attack on them.
When unhurt, a cock pheasant thinks nothing of the swoop of
these gentry, but it is otherwise when he has been hard hit.

Pheasants are seldom found during the daytime on trees.
One may see them on a well-preserved ground in England
and now and then in China flying up on to the lower branches
when the dusk has come, and then going higher till they have
found what they consider a safe and comfortable perch for
the night. Poachers, of course, know all this, and sometimes
before roosting time has arrived have taken their stations
from which unseen to watch the exact positions they mean
to raid. But asa rule pheasants once off the perch remain
on the ground till the time for rest has come round once
more. Only on orieoccasioncan! remember putting phéasants

PHEASANTS. 121

out of a tree in the open. This was.in the Bing-Wu district,
quite open country, and without any available cover near at
hand, an explanation, doubtless, of the use made of a big
evergreen tree, an ilex, if I remember rightly. Three or
four went away from the top of this tree almost altogether,
then another, and finally a fine young cock which had foolishly
remained a little too long and was brought to bag.

It would be both interesting and instructive to have the
opinion of a few typical Chinese farmers respecting the
damage done to their crops by pheasants. That they do
most unquestionably eat an immense amount of grain when
they get the chance is certain, and it is probably this fact
which enables country people to look on with indifference, if
not approval, when the marauders are shot. They are always
willing to tell where they believe pheasants are to be found,
and in case of lost birds will give the direction in which they
were seen to go, though to the unsophisticated foreigner a
reply like “flown towards the west” is not very enlightening.
Whether the Chinese recognize the counter-baiancing fact
that game is responsible for the destruction of vast numbers
of wire-worms and other enemies to the farmer, I cannot say.
Probably the majority of the country people are sufficiently
Buddhistic to have at least a little objection to the taking of
life and that is doubtless one reason why multitudes of birds
may at times be found in thickly populated districts. Gun-
powder, too, is dear, and the primitive gingal even dearer, and
hence few of the ordinary peasantry take to sport of any sort.

Men differ in their opinion as to the bestsize shot to use for
pheasants but the variety in Chinashooting has been one cause
of the discovery of wide possibilities. Out after snipe, for
example, with No. 9 and No. 8 in the right and left barrels
respectively, (this is an experience of my own) a pheasant
goes up at convenient range and comes down to the smaller
number. That is the extreme in one direction. The other
occurred when waterfowl were expected, and No. 1 was the
charge. But in ordinary cases the choice seems to range
between Nos. 6 and 4. I had particularly good practice one
year with some Ballistite No. 6 cartridges. That seems to
serve very well, and if the powder is straight does for almost
anything except geese.

With the close of the China New Year, pheasant shooting
should absolutely cease. It might be better were the date
advanced a little, but that is impossible when we remember
that China New holidays rank as one of the principal up-
country seasons of the year. But once that is done with the
stricter the law is the better. Not many years ago. there
was some fear that the China pheasant would follow the
American bison, and be known only ina few closely protected

122 WILD LIFE IN CHINA,

preserves, and some stuffed specimens in museums. The
wretches who supply the millinery market were the middlemen
in this nefarious traffic. Butasthe result ofa public meeting
of protest in Shanghai, and some strong representations in
the right native quarters, the export was stopped altogether,
and Phasianus Torquatus was left to himself for the summer
except for the attentions of the purveyor for illicit markets.
That the China pheasant can stand a good deal of persecution
is certain. He has no attentive keeper to bring him his
breakfast and supper every day. What he eats he has to
forage for, and hence soon learns that independence of action
which belongs to all truly wild life. The mother bird is
careless at times where she makes her nest. I found nine
eggs once quite uncovered out in the middle of a field which
was already being prepared for rice. Mr. R. W. Little of
“The N.-C. Daily News” tried to get them hatched out, but the
experiment failed. Still we have Mr. Wade’s assurance that
though pheasants may not be found in the collected numbers
once so common, their ranks are only apparently thinner,
dispersion accounting for the seeming scarcity. In all
probability this is one of the true explanations of the smallness
of modern bags. What the others are may be surmised by
shooters themselves. But it is satisfactory to know that
there is at present no reason to fear the killing out of the
China pheasant. He is being introduced on a large scale
into Vancouver and British Columbia, about 1.000 birds
having been turned down there during this present year. That
the pheasant can stand the winter there is shown by its power
to bear the cold of northern China, and I have myself seen our
China bird in fine fettle during the winter in Oregon.

es Ce ee

CHAPTER XXXI.

GULLS.

“How many things,” says Shakespeare, “by season season-
ed are to their true praise and right perfection.” There are
times when we scarcely look at gull: there are others when
we cannot; for in this part of the world gulls as a rule
disappear with the heat and come back with the cool. At
the first touch of red or yellow on the new leaves they know
it is time to seek their winter haunts, and so the coast
ports of China get their welcome share of these very
interesting visitors from October onwards. There are more
than twenty kinds of them to be found in China waters,
some extremely common, others rare. Some are practically
identical with the same birds in English waters; others
vary to some extent. Gulls, as a rule, with a few very
marked exceptions, are widely spread. The ease of their
flight, their swimming power, and their ability to make a
living ashore if need be, mark them out as being fitted for
survival. They are nearly omnivorous. Fish, floating
refuse, molluscs, worms, flesh and other things seem equally
welcome. One of the closest assemblages of gulls it ever
fell to my lot to see was some years ago when leaving
Cork harbour on an Atlantic liner which was just disposing
of its daily sweepings by throwing them overboard.
Doubtless amongst the rubbish were pieces of cheese of
which—Gorgonzola for preference, I believe—gulls are
inordinately fond. To the farmer, they are, during the
ploughing season, almost as useful as the rook, for they
follow the plough and snap up whatever in the shape of
wireworm, or other vermiform food, may be exposed. Feeding
the gull is a favourite pastime from London bridges, and we
sometimes see it done from the Garden Bridge in Shanghai.
Then comes the chance for budding airmen to take note of
the perfection of nature’s methods in utilizing air currents
andovercoming their difficulties. That, however, is perhaps best
seen at sea when, seated on the poop on a fine, sunny, breezy
day, one may for hours watch the marvellous means of
progression possessed by these birds. For several minutes
at a time I have w atched a single bird keep up with a vessel
running at from twelve to fourteen knots, no feather moving

124 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

no flap of wing, no flick of tail, the height above the vessel
remaining practically constant all the time. I imagine that
this is possible only when the wind suits in every way, in
force as well as in direction. But it is a sight which never
ceases to interest the thoughtful, and now that moving
pictures of animal movements are becoming so perfect, it
should soon be demonstrated that there is as much of
instruction in it as of interest.

We have two names in English for this class of birds,
gulls and mews. Both have their counterpart in French,
Goéland and Mouette, and both are borrowed from older
sources, “gull” from the welsh “gwylan,” and “mew” from
an older Norse or Icelandic name. The classical name of
the genus is Larus, but this, according to the customary
variety of views amongst “authorities,” is richly diversified.

Larus Canus, the hoary white gull, is our commonest
kind. He isa fine big bird when at his maximum growth
and strength, quite a foot and ahalflong. Ages of immunity
from persecution—except by Sunday trippers and the like—
have made him bold. He shuns man no more than the rook
does. On the contrary he cultivates his acquaintance, and
is willing on the smallest encouragement to be friendly, not
to say intimate. On such occasions one can sit and admire
his beauties to the full. They consist in the first place of
the immaculate purity of his white feathers. If it is possible
for anything to be whiter than snow it is the covering of the
head, breast, and lower parts of the common gull. The
ivory gull has more of this spotless purity even than its
cousin, but I have not seen the ivory gull in these waters.
Nature has provided, as she always does, a note or two of
difference and contrast in the plumage of all the gulls. In
Larus Canus these consist of a very delicate shade of grey-
blue on the back, whilst the wing primaries are black tipped
with white. Some species change considerably in the
breeding season, donning, some of them, a dark cap for the
time being. The young too, until they have developed adult
plumage, are very differently marked from their parents.
The only one I ever shot, many years ago now, was killed in
the belief that it was an entirely new variety. At the
Museum it was discovered to be simply an immature specimen
of a very common kind.

L. Ridibundus, the black-headed gull, is almost as
common on inland waters as it is near the sea. Except for
the black cap, the markings of this are not very different
from those of the last. The beak, however, is red, whilst that
of the common gull is yellowish. The feet and legs, too, of
Ridibundus are ved, not the dark, almost black colour of
those of Canus. 1n some parts of England the eggs of this

GULLS. 125

and other varieties are taken in great numbers. .So long as
this is done systematically and with due attention to the
demands of nature, there is here just as legitimate a source
_of income as there is from the possession of an immense
-fowl-house. As many as forty-four thousand eggs have
‘been taken from “gulleries” on one estate, and yet so carefully
“is this robbery achieved that there is no diminution in the
number of birds. So expert on the wing are the black-headed
gulls that they are able to catch insects in the air.

The Eastern Herring Gull—L. occidentalis—is similar
toavery common kind in England to wit, L. argentatus, which
“is an even finer bird than the common gull, and measures at its
very best abouttwo feet. As its name implies, it is a follower
-of the shoals of fish upon which much of its food depends.
When engaged in this occupation its powers of flight, so far
-as the exhibition of control is concerned, are seen at their
-very best. The steady progress under wing power or by

means of air currents is when necessary suspended on the:
instant. Something below has attracted attention. Ifthere

‘is no question as to the presence of prey, the downward dart

is instantaneous and usually effective. If there is doubt,

there is a moment’s hovering to make sure, and then the dive.
-or the onward flight as the case may be. There may be

‘hundreds and thousands of hungry birds collected within so.
‘small a space that to all appearance collisions must be

frequent, and at the speed used dangerous, if not fatal, but

nobody ever sees anything of the kind. Over, or under, to

one side or the other, does the ‘‘automatic steering gear”

carry each bird, a marvel of simple effectiveness not a whit

less wonderful than the more evident fying mechanism.

A variety of this species is L. Cachinnans, the laughing
gull, common during the cool season along the coasts of
‘China. At that time one sees them inland so far as North
Manchuria, and even farther on towards the centre of
‘Southern Siberia, wherever conditions are favourable. The

bird has the red beak and legs and the black cap of aspecies

-above described. Passengers via the Mediterranean may see
it in great numbers at the proper season. The nest of the
laughing gull is placed in some marshy situation, as is that
of some other kinds, whilst others again keep to the bare
coast, and deposit their eggs on sand or rocks. The nest of
the laughing gull is made of dry grass and sea-weeds.

Other species referred to by Pere David are L. Niveus,
the snow-white gull, L. Crassirostris, the thick billed gull, L.
Brunneicephalus, the brown-headed, and Chroicocephalus
_Saundersi, or the Saunders Gull.

So far, no mention has been made of the aggressive
nature of certain of the gull family, but so important a trait

126 WILD LIFE IN CHINA,

must not be allowed to pass unnoticed. Some of the larger
gulls are rank robbers, chasing and depriving smaller birds
of the prey they have laboured to procure for themselves.
There is a good deal of humannatureinbirds! InScotlandand
other northern countries, where they are to be found when the
young of animals are abundant, it is well known that gulls are
not infrequently responsible for the destruction of a good
many of these. Lambs, for example, especially if at all weakly.
they willcombineto overwhelm, the first onslaught being made
on the eyes. Sometimes other birds are attacked, killed, and
eaten, the voracious gull taking on himself the ro/e of the
raptores proper. In all probability, however, these excursions
into uncommon larders are due to one of two causes—scarcity
of the more natural food, or inability on the part of the bird
to capture it. \We may compare gulls with ordinary beasts
of prey, which, as Kipling has so characteristically pourtrayed
in his Jungle Stories, turn aside from their ordinary habits
under compulsion of hunger. Ih times of scarcity, tigers
descend to very low hunting indeed. When toothless and
decrepit they are man-eaters. So with birds. They keep
their proper “form” as long as that is possible, but when
hunger comes, and bird hunger must be far more difficult to
bear than human, they stick at nothing. So there is some
excuse even for a lamb-killing gull.

CHAPTER NNNII.

TERNS.

Before this chapter is closed J have a story to tell, a
etory of terns, one which though not new is not very widely
known, and yet is so full of pathos that it alone would have
warranted the devotion of a page or two to the Swallows of
the Sea. But the terns have many other claims to our
attention. Their grace, their similarity when on the wing to
the swallows of the English summer, the simplicity yet beauty
of their plumage, and the fact that they may often be seen
when other birds are absent or hidden, all these things
demand that they should have justice done to them in these
pages. Of the same great family as the gulls, they belong
to another genus, the true terns being known under the
classical name of Sterna, of which the derivation is doubtful.

We will look at the most common first. That is Sterna
fluviatilis, ov Sterna hirundo, the “tern-swallow” of our
estuaries and coasts. A foot to fourteen inches is about his
length when full grown, but a good deal of this is due toa
fairly long beak of reddish yellow and a forked tail of great
delicacy in point. In marking, the common tern is not unlike
the gull, having the same pure white breast and under parts,
and a similar greyish-blue, though lighter in some cases, on
the back. He wears a black cap which fits exactly along
the centre transverse line of the eye, and his feet and legs are
a dull ruddy colour. Such are the simple markings of this
interesting bird, but they form a picture that fs at once
chaste and striking. In the cool season of the year terns
may be found in suitable localities in considerable numbers,
hawking over the water for fish, insects, or other food.

S. Minuta, ov S. Sinensis,as Pére David calls it, is known
to Englishmen as the lesser tern. In marking it is much
the same as its bigger cousin, but the primaries are darker
and there is a white splash from the root of the beak
extending over the eye, and thus lighting up the head
considerably. The lesser tern reaches only some eight or
nine inches in length, and in order to show how much of its
substance is “feathers and show” it may be mentioned that
its total weight is only about 2 oz. It was once my
good fortune to fall in with a flock of them hunting

128 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

over a piece of flooded land, in the year, if I remember
rightly, when so many villagers were drowned out on the
Pootung side. I was after snipe at the time, and gave up
that chase to watch the evolutions of these true swallows
of the sea. One was brought home for the Museum. They
showed little or no sign of fear, doubtless for the reason
that they are so seldom interfered with. Who on ordinary
occasions would shoot swallows whether on sea or land?

Of the marsh variety of terns David mentions two
species as well known in the east. One of these Haliplana
Anaestheta, the eastern representative of S. Antarctica. and
the other H. fuliginosa, the sooty tern, so called from the
dark colour of its plumage which, with the exception of the
white splash over the eye, is from the crown of the head to
the tip of the tail a dull sooty black on back and wings. The
under parts are as pure a white as that of the common tern.
andlookevenwhiterincontrast against the sombre tints above.
Feet, legs, and bill are all of the sooty tinge. These are
true sea birds, and may be met with hundreds of miles from
any shore. Naturally their diet is more exclusively fishy
than that of the others.

Far more striking in appearance than either of those
yet mentioned is the white-winged tern, Hydrochelidon
leucoptera. In this the bill. feet and legs are blood red: the
head is all a glossy black, so is the back till the tail coverts
are reached; these and the tail are white. On the under
side the same division of colours holds, the breast and
abdomen being black with a tinge of green whilst the
ventrices are white. The wings stand out in strong contrast
being very lighf in colour with a grey-blue tinge shading off
to white. These are haunters of the land rather than of the
sea, and their food is more largely insectivorous. Nine to
ten inches is their full length. Another species allied to the
last is H. hybrida, the so-called whiskered tern. It has the
same blood-red bill and lower extremities, but there is no
black about it except the cap, which in this species fits down
right to the lower edge of the eye. For the rest both back
and breast are of a somewhat duller blue grey than is the
case with the others, the under wing coverts and ventrices
being white. It 1s alittle longer than H.hybrida. Both are
but rare visitors to Great Britain, preferring as arule lower
latitudes.

S. Caspia is considerably larger than either of the birds
yet mentioned, reaching at times to a length of from twenty
to twenty-two inches. It differs very slightly also from the
restin marking. Its bill ts a bright blood red with some
white longitudinal markings on it. There is the black cap.
this time with a curve down round the eye. The feet and

TERNS. 129

legs are black, and the wing feathers grow darker as they
approach their extremities. Otherwise the markings of the
common tern and this are very similar. These also are more
given to the sea, are always on the wing, flying, as is the nature
of their tribe, with the utmost tirelessness and ease. They
seize their prey on or close to the surface, never actually
diving for it. The Caspian variety is a far shyer bird than
most of the others, is not easily approached, and seems to be
constantly onthe watch for anything that might prove inimical.
In common with the family as a rule, terns pass through
various changes in plumage according to the seasons.

S. Longipennis, the long-winged or swift tern, needs little
description. Its chief distinction is in the length of its primary
and tailfeathers, which mark it out as swift amongst the swift,
light-winged where all are light-winged. The tips of the
primaries extend till they are immediately above the ends of
the long and deeply forked tail. It would be interesting to
know what pace a swift-tern could get up were a bird of
prey, say a noddy, after it.

A line about the noddy, Anous Stolidus, and these notes
must come to aclose. Except for a light coloured crown to
his head, the noddy is of a dark chocolate brown turning in
the primariesalmosttoblack. Hisindifferencetoapproaching
strangers is responsible for his name of the “foolish one’ —
stolidus. Many have been caught by hand on board ships at
sea. The noddy is as often known under the still more
characteristic name of “Booby.” He is more at home on
sea than on land. Noddy’s eggs, like those of some other
terns, are considered very good eating. Like gulls, some nest
on sand or rocks, others amongst the marshes. Some very
beautiful photographs of terns taken from life recently
appeared in that most interesting weekly “Country Life.”

It has already fallen to my lottotell one story of maternal
love as shown by a partridge. One delights to have such an
opportunity when the incident has been a personal experience.
Butallsuchexhibitions by birds may bereferred bytheskeptical
to instinct, and I am a firm believer in something more than
instinct in many animals other than man. It must not be
forgotten that even man himself under stress of unusual
danger falls back on instincts pure and simple. Tumbling
into deep water, for example, when he cannot swim, his reason
vanishes, and he becomes once more what his ancestors were
before reason had begun, that is to say an arboreal animal
accustomed to escape danger by swinging himself higher and
higher on the branches of the trees on which he dwelt.
Drowning, his hands instinctively go up to branches which are
not there! Andas man may descend from reason to instinct,
so may the lower animals rise at times from instinct to reason.

130 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

Witness my story. or rather the story of Thomas Edward,
the Scotch naturalist. Edward tells in his simple inimitable
style of watching a party of Pickietars (Terns. S. hirundo),
hoping some might come within reach and be added to his
collection. He dwells on the beauty of the scene, the indefat:-
gable evolutions of the terns in their search for food. now
darting down on their finny prey. now soaring aloft again,
hovering on kestrel wing when in doubt. and then dropping
like a plummet, to emerge from the surface with a catch
Just after such a dip, the chance came for a shot. and the
bird. winged. fell into the water. His cries brought his
companions up in hot haste. The wounded one was slowly
drifting ashore where Edward hoped to get it. He must
tell the rest in his own words: “Whilst matters were in this
position. I beheld to my utter astonishment and surprise, two
of the unwounded terns take hold of their disabled comrade,
one at each wing. lift him out of the water, and bear him out
seawards. They were followed by two other birds. After
being carried about six or seven yards, he was gently let
down again, when he was taken up by the two who had
hitherto been inactive. In this way they continued to carry
him alternately. until they had conveyed him to a rock at 2
considerable distance, upon which they landed him in safety.
Having recovered my self-possession, I made toward the
rock. wishing to obtain the prize which had been so uncere-
moniously snatched from my grasp. Iwas observed. however,
by the terns: and instead of four, I had in a short time
a whole swarm about me. On my near approach to the
rock. L[once more beheld two of them take hold of the
wounded bird as they had done already, and bear him out to
sea in triumph, far beyond my reach. This, had I been su
inclined. I could no doubt have prevented. Under the
circumstances, however, my feelings would not permit me,
and | willingly allowed them to perform without molestation
an act of mercy, and to exhibit an instance of affection,
which man himself need not be ashamed to imitate: I was
indeed rejoiced at the disappointment which they had
occasioned, for they had thereby rendered me witness of 2
scene which I could scarcely have believed, and which no
leneth of time will efface from my recollection.” There
speaks a true sportsman and naturalist.

Is there anybody who can read this story to find in it
nothing but instinct? If so, one can but be sorry for him
For what have we here but one of the very things on which
the Englishman above all others loves to pride himself—
power to rise to the occasion, whatever the occasion may
be, power to adapt means to ends, to decide promptly what
ought to be done and then to do it, though it has never bees

TERNS. 13]

done before? Those four italicized words contain the whole
difference between instinct and reason. They tell a story
which to me, isunique. Not that in Ithinkinstances of friendly
aid amongst birds to be unique On the contrary, I believe
there to be a good many such cases though we do not see
them, notably such as the dressing of wounds by snipe which
has been referred to once before, and of which I have
myself seen an example. There is no need to moralize on
the story. I does its own moralizing, but I shall be glad if its
re-telling in these pages helps to increase the sympathy which
ought to exist between man and all his feathered friends.

PO CL ACE AS TN

Cuaprer NNNIII.

CORMORANTS AND PELICANS.

No wanderer amongst the many waterways of South
Kiangsu or other inland parts of China. wherever it 1s possible
for punt to float and fish to swim, will need any introduction
to Phalacrocorax Carbo. the common Cormorant. He may
be glad of a little enlightenment respecting the ugly-looking
name, guessing perhaps that it was given to fit the ugly-
looking bird. Certainly the cormorant by any other name
would smell as sweet. But one part. even of the name.
is inscrutable. “Phalacro” in Greek means “bald.” and
“Corax” is the raven. as everybody knows. But what “carbo”
stands for in this connexion is only tobe guessed. “Lussu. the
Chinese name. is used loosely for more than one bird of the
genus. This cormorant hasa cousin better known along the
Shantung coast than in this neighbourhood. P. Pelagicus. the
sea-cormorant. I have spent some time in watching it
through glasses as it fished and rested along the rocky side
of Liu-kung-taoat Wethaiwei. Needless to say its swimming
power is all that could be desired. Its flight is a little heavy
perhaps, but is strong, and by no means Iacking in speed.

But it isthe cormorant of these waters. the cormorant of
the rivers and lakes, as well as of the coasts. that is most
interesting as wellasbest knowntoordinarymen. Essentially
fish-eaters, the cormorants are utterly uneatable themselves.
More fishy than fish, would be the verdict, probably. of the
bold experimenter who should dare to “see what it’s like” on
the table. The cormorant needs little description. He has
no beauty that we should desire him. His covering is dull
and altogether lacking in brilliancy. This does not altogether
apply to the green cormorant, which. as its name shows.
has a distinct tinge, but to the commoner variety. and
specially to suchas we see under the unpromising conditions
visible on a Chinese punt. When wild. cormorants are
more attractive than this. With perfect freedom they keep
in perfect condition, and what little they have in the way of
attractiveness is seen at its best. A sociable family. they
may be met with in companies varying from a dozen or two
to hundreds or more. If possible they are even more
voracious than other birds. which is saving a great deal. One

CORMORANTS AND PELICANS. 133:

was shot once by a musket bullet through the throat which:
not only killed the bird but cut in half a large eel which as.
yet had been unable to tind room in the interior! All birds.
of the kind gorge themselves with fish after fish till, for the
time being, there is absolutely no more space. The young
feed from the half digested contents of the parent’s gullet,.
putting their own heads half way down the throat for the
purpose. The skin of the neck being very elastic can hold
a far larger number of fish than one would think. From the:
way that tame cormorants balance themselves in the gunnel.
of a punt one might infer that they would be at home on
trees. They are.

Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life,

The middle tree and highest there that grew,

Sat like a cormorant,
is what Milton tells us of the first approach of the Tempter
in Eden. Some kinds breed on low trees near their feeding
places, and it is not an uncommon thing to see others
standing on low-lying branches or posts over the water:
whence they will dive after any prey they see passing
below. How well they swim is known to all who have
watched them either in their natural or domesticated
state. But how few people there must be who have any
clear conception of their grace once they have disappeared
from sight below the surface! Ashore they look almost as
clumsy as a goose. They move with no more grace than
does the waddling duck. Their flight possesses not the
faintest of faint hints to recall the winged symmetry and
matchless elegance of the sea-swallow. Once in the water,
however, it is seen that they are intheirelement. As with all
divers, their forward parts lie low. The graceful curve of their
back, with the little upward turns fore and aft, at the neck and
tail that is to say, forms a perfect bow-like arc, there is ample
weight of body to make the dive a very rapid one whenever
the centre of gravity has been upset by the quick dart of the
head and neck below the surface, and literally in a flash they
are gone. The term “like a fash” comes from the days when
flint-lock fowling pieces with a powder pan were in use.
Diving at the flash, cormorants and other such birds usually
escaped being shot. But it is not even at the surface of the
water that the cormorant is at his best. To see that, one
must see him below, and that is a treat as rare as it is
astonishing. I shall never forget my one opportunity of
watching a band of trained cormorants fish a clear creek.
On hundreds of occasions I had seen them go below muddy
water and re-appear with their prey. But it isa totally
different thing when one can stand ona bank well above,
and through the limpid liquid of a crystal stream watch

134 WILD LIFE IN CHINA,

their evolutions below. What the swallow and the tern car
do in the air. the clumsy cormorant can do below the water.
He becomes transfigured into a perfect embodiment of grace.
He passes through his aqueous environment as if it were
ether. The rapidity of his motion makes his plumage, none
too well fitting in the air, sit as though every feather had
been glued in position and then ironed. He darts: he turns
with lightning speed; his long beak, head, and neck explore
the recesses of a patch of weeds. Sure enough, there are
fish at home. They dart, too, here, there, everywhere: but
all to no purpose. As well might a screaming blackbird hope
to escape the stooping hawk. They are overtaken one by
one, not as a terrier overtakes rats to be nipped, killed. and
left, but to be held in the capacious beak and throat till nature
demands a new supply of air.

Students of biology will remember that there is direct
connexion in the long line of evolution between reptiles
and birds. During the Jurassic period there were evolved
immense bird-like reptiles, and from them, in course of time,
our modern bird life has come. To-day, I know of no closer
connexion in outward appearance between: the avian ané
reptilian forms than is to be seen inthe Darters, first cousins
to the cormorants, one species of which Plotus Melanogaster,
is, I believe, not altogether unknown in Far Eastern waters
So snake-like are these birds, especially when their body is
submerged. and only their long neck and head visible on the
surface, that they have been repeatedly mistaken for snakes
so repeatedly as to gain the name “Snake-birds.” There is
a drawing in “The Encyclopaedia Britannica” of an Indian
whip-snake in which the head and neck resemblance to that
of a darter is unmistakeable. Darters are even more rapid
in their under-water movements than cormorants. So far
as I know they are the only birds that bayonet their prey,
driving their sharp bill right through the body instead of
grasping it. Coming to the surface with their transfixed
prey, they free themselves with a shake of the head and
swallow at pleasure.

Of the same genus, though wide asunder as the poles in
appearance, are the pelicans, those immenseclumsy creatures
which, being a full eight or more feet in length at their best,
are half as much again in width from tip to tip of wing!
The great distinguishing feature of the pelican is its pouch,
dependent from the lower mandible. This. it must be
remembered, is very largely under muscular control, which
fact accounts for its apparent variation in size from a bag
capable of containing a couple of gallons of water to a slight
swelling below the bill. Many are the curious traditions
connected with the pelican. Because its yellow bill has a red

CORMORANTS AND PELICANS. 135

tip, which tip is pressed against the breast when the contents
of the pouch have to be placed ready for the young, it was
said that the little ones were fed by the mother’s blood, which
also revived them when they had been killed by serpent venom!
The common cormorant is represented in China by the
species Pelecanus mitratus (David). Pelecanus philippensis
is another species common from Mongolia southwards. But
for a little roseate colouring and afew yellow feathers on
the breast, the pelicans are white. Their feathers are of
lanceolate shape and with none of that close fitting nature
which characterizesthose of some other water birds. Pelicans,
as a matter of fact, prefer the surface of the water to
its depths. It is said that they are capable of forming
strategic and tactical combinations with cormorants with
whom they are allied, and whose acquaintance they certainly
cultivate. When hunting under these circumstances the
cormorants go below and frighten the fish they cannot catch
to the surface where the pelicans scoop up the struggling
mass a dozen at a time! Acting alone, they are credited
with intelligence sufficient to enable them to form line with
yard-wide intervals, and so drive. fish into shallow places
where like destruction can be dealt. The young help
themselves, not from the throat of the parent as with the
cormorants, but from the pouch.

A flock of pelicans numbering several thousands, such
as may at times be seen during their migrations over lands
in their line of fight, must be a sight indeed. The pelican,
though apparently so clumsy, can yet rise to an immense
height and maintain a steady flight for a considerable time.
His body is said to be particularly well supplied with hollow
bones, so much so that an old writer declares the dried
skeleton to weigh no more than 30 oz. This for a bird known
in China to weigh at times more than that in pounds, sounds
questionable, but may be true. Pelicansarealmost ubiquitous,
except in the colder countries. Hereabouts it has been my
fortune to have a close view of only one. That was on the
Ningpo river. The Captain of the old “Peking” and myself
watched it through our glasses as the steamer slowly made
her way into port. Personal friends have told me of 2
rencontre with one on a marsh at the Fenghwang Shan.
They were snipe-shooting when they espied a big mass of
something in the distance which they could not at first make
out. With No. 8 shot only, there was no hope of bagging
anythingsohugeas a pelican, which anearer approach showed
the creature to be. Nevertheless a stalk was attempted,
foredoomed, as everybody who knows those marshes will
allow, to failure, for there is no cover, or rather was none.
Reclamation has provided afew dykes since then. But as the

136 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

“pelican in the wilderness” had doubtless seen the sportsmen
long before they saw him, it may well be imagined that he
was enjoying the event as much as they. He waited and
watched as long as he felt it wise, and then went up in
clumsy majesty and sailed away. We have in this neighbour-
hood nothing like the numbers of pelicans reported from
some of the southern parts of Europe, the coasts of the Black
Sea,andso on. Neither are there as many as may be found
in favoured districts farther south. But taking China asa
whole, she has her fair share of the pelican hordes as she
has of others, In the winter of 1891-2 a member of the
Customs’ staff stationed at Swatow, Mr. P. E. Milhe. was
out shooting one day, when,from behind some cover, he
surprised no fewer than five pelicans within a distance of 50
yards. He was on the look-out for geese. and so was prepared
with somewhat heavy shot. Firing at the leading bird he
was surprised to see no fewer than three of the five drop
to his first barrel. The bestof these he presented to the
Shanghai Museum. It measured eight feet from tip of beak
totipof tail: it had a stretch of wing of eleven feet: its beak
was twenty-two inches long, and its total weight thirty-two
pounds! Something like a bird!

— See

CHAPTER XXNNIV.

THE IBIS AND CRANE.

There is something in human nature which is attracted
‘by mere size. Given a giant and there at once isa being
which people will pay to see. Given a big bird and the
ordinary bird-lover is sure to take special note of it,
notwithstanding the fact that there may be many smaller
ones far more deserving attention. This much is urged in
part apology for the present chapter. One cannot but be
struck with the upstanding appearance of a crane, with its
length of leg, of neck, and of bill, with its extraordinary
appearance on the wing, of which Japanese artists have made
such wonderful use, and with its dignified stalk as it walks or
wadesin search of food. The crane is the tallest birdin China,
and I hopethat fact may excusesome little subservience. But
to make the apology complete it must have attached to it
a further confession that it is mere size and nothing more
which has brought together the ibis and the crane in one
chapter, for the former belongs of right to the heron tribe,
whilst the latter is more closely allied to the bustards. Asan
excuse it may be added that it is hardly true to say that size
is the only link: for there is the fact that both ibis and crane
love low-lying lands, and feed on much the same sort of food.

Visitors to the Shanghat Museum will see two specimens
of the ibis known as Ibis Nippon, the Japanese variety,
in which the beak is some nine or ten inches long, red tipped,
the head bald and red in colour, the irides yellow, the crest
and neck of an ashy grey, and all the rest white. Swinhoe
tells of having met with this particular species along the
banks of the Tamsui River in N. Formosa. There is a rosy
tinge in the white of these birds, more marked in some cases
thaninothers. The /bis Nippon ranges quite widely in China,
migrating as circumstances require. He is of a watchful,
suspicious nature, with little trust even of the harmless
farmer of the Chinese fields.

The so-called Sacred Ibis ts not known in China. He
is essentially an African bird. Strange to say he has
disappeared from Egypt where, inancienttimes, he was treated
with such marked reverence. In India and China his place
is taken by I. melanocephala, the black-headed ibis. An Arab

138 WIELD LIFE TN CHINA.

name for this bird 1s 4bou-mengel. the “Father of the sickle.”
alluding to the shape of the beak. which recalls that of the
curlew. With their long legs. ibises can get over the ground
pretty quickly. making at times in their hurry quaint jumps
into the air. Once well on the wing they fly well. Their
height varies from about two feet to two feet six inches.

The dark-coloured ibis, a sort of chocolate-brown,
sometimes called the Black Ibis. is also known in the Far
East. having the technical name of [. firleinellus. It is
somewhat smaller than the last-mentioned. and there ts more
variation in colour between the sexes. as also between
parents and young. The glossy tbis. as it is also called, has
an extremely wide range, being known from southern Europe
to southern Africa. from Africa to Australia, and from
Australia through India to China.

T.Sinensis, our very own ibis. is buta variety of 7. Nippon.
Tt lives and breeds in considerable numbers in some parts
of the ‘northern provinces, coming south with the colder
veather. Pere David says there are always two young ones.

Turning to the cranes, we find ourselves fifty per cent.
vicher in species than was the case with the birds just
noticed. Only four species of the ibis are described to six
of the crane. There is Grus leucogeranos, the white Siberian
crane, G. Virgo or Numidica, G. Cinerea, the common grey
crane, G. monachus. the white-headed crane. G. wipio. and
G. viridirostris, the green-billed. Of all these, the only
specimens in the Shanghai Museum are the last-named,
and the white-headed, of which there are three.

Grus leucogeranos. the white crane, is a very fine bird.
With the exception of some of the primaries the whole
plumage is a pure snowy white, the long wing feathers being
ajet black. and so forming, when outspread,a striking contrast.
Atuftof delicate white feathers hangs pendent from the breast.
The only colours visible are the red legs and the same tint
shown on the bare patches round the eyes. As the true
home of this magnificent bird is Siberia. though it is said to
migrate at times to India, we do not see them as a rule in
this neighbourhood, though they are known in the more
northern portions of the country. The male stands nearly
four feet in height.

About the same height stands the green-billed crane of
which we have a specimen. He gets his name from the
verdant tinge seen in his mandibles, but his main plumage,
as in the Siberian bird, is white, though there is a greyish
ashen tinge on the neck, and the legs and feet are black.

G. Virgo, the Demoiselle, or Numidian crane, is of darker
tint, and is remarkable over and above that for its more
graceful shape. It is,indeed. difficult to imagine greater purity

THE IBIS AND CRANE. 139

of curve than is exhibited by the demoiselle. There is no
bald patch on the head of the virgin crane. On the contrary,
the crown of bluish slate is heightened in appearance by the
black of the cheeks, neck, and pendent tuft, whilst in sharp
contrast against thesethere isatuftof white feathers springing
from the side of the head behind the eye, and standing out
beyond the back of the head a distance of two inches or so.
something as a bunch of quill pens might do, forming one
of the jauntiest bits of ornamentation to be seen in the whole
avian world. The remainder of the body ts a bluish slate
colour, with black edging to the feathers, and practically
black terminations to the tail feathers which in this species
nearly reach the ground, instead of hanging only as far as
the knee as is the case in most of the crane tribe. Altogether,
the demoiselle need not fear comparison even with its
magnificent Siberian cousin. The height, however, is some-
what less, being only about three feet three inches.

Of Grus Vipio, | know extremely little. Pere David
tells us it is well known in Manchuria, along the bank of the
Amur and the Ussuri, as also in the north-west provinces of
China. It is described as having a slaty grey body, a pure
white head and neck, with black forehéad and cheeks, and
red legs.

The white-headed variety isalsocommon inthe north-west
provinces, though in summer it is frequently seen in Korea
and Japan. It is of a slaty brown colour running almost to
sooty black at times. Only the head and neck carry the
white feathers which give its name. So marked, it is easy
to be distinguished from the other species. The three
specimens in the Shanghai Museum vary in height from
between two and a half to three feet.

Ihave left G. cinerea, the common grey bird, to the last.
This, at its full height, will bear comparison in stature with
the largest of the others, standing a good four feet when full
grown. Long ages ago he wasa native British bird, and
even now, moved thereto, perhaps, by long hereditary
suggestion, a stray specimen or two will stretch the summer
jaunt sufficiently to be seen along the Norfolk Broads or
amongst the marshes of Essex. Cranes migrate at immense
heights, sometimes in the V shape taken by geese, sometimes
in a modified form of it in which there is a third line parallel
with one of the others and so forming a second V within the
first, and sometimes with the other side also doubled making
a W. Even at their highest, however, the loud trumpet calls
of the birds may be heard as they answer each other, possibly
only for companionship, perhaps, however, in response to
directions from the leader. A soft ashen grey is the general
colour of the common crane, though its primaries are black,

140 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

and there is a streak of greyish white from the eye backward
down the side of the neck. The iris is red, as also is a bald
patch on the crown. Most of the cranes seen in this
neighbourhood belong to this species. They are, perhaps,
most common in the more newly reclaimed portions of the
delta. I have seen them at times in the neighbourhood
-of the sea-wall. and once put up a party of five or
six from a half dried creek within the city of Changsha.
Flushing cranes inside a city will sound somewhat curious
to readers acquainted only with cities of the west. But
sportsmen in this part of the world know well enough that
a Chinese “city” frequently means nothing more than a
space of land surrounded by a brick wall backed with an
earthen embankment. The amount of house-covered space
‘within varies very largely indeed. In some “cities” there
are square miles of open country and only a score or two of
houses: in most, there are still plenty of,open fields. It not
infrequently happens that some of the very best pheasant
shooting is to be found within the city wall. especially since
‘the Taipings left so much of the enclosed area covered with
ruins. JI have not infrequently put up teal and wild duck.
also, within a circumvallated area. so that there is nothing
specially strange in seeing cranesthere. The common crane
-in South Kiangsu is sometimes disposed to be trustful where
man is concerned. I once succeeded in getting within about
sixty yards of a pair down by the sea-wall, though we were
all in the open and within full sight of each other. Unfor-
-tunately I had no glasses with me. or I might have sat down
and taken observations at will. I had a gun with No. 4
cartridges, and it was, perhaps, the sight of that which
-caused the birds to think that closer acquaintance was
undesirable, though I had no desire to shoot them. So with
a hop or two, and a flap of the broad wings they took
-to flight exactly as one sees them on a Japanese screen, all
legs, wings, andneck. Usually, however, cranes are too wary
to allow of close approach, and their height enables them to
see a long way round. So it comes to pass that few are shot,
which is just as well, perhaps.

CHAPTER XXXV.

WAGTAILS AND BUNTINGS.

Extremes meet when such immense birds as cranes and
such little ones as wagtails find themselves in consecutive
chapters. But having done our duty to size it is now allowable
to make our bow to symmetry and rural simplicity. This we
gladly do by calling our readers’ attention to a genus at once
dainty, shapely, and refined as well as confiding and familiar.
The wagtails are no exotics to any of us. England, France,
Germany, and most of the countries of the Old World,
including China, may claim one or more of the wagtails as
their own, and in most lands their free and easy habits
make them general favourites. Not only will they allow the
near approach of man, but they are even more familiar with
cattle, sheep, and horses, round whom they run and fly in
pursuit of flies and other insects. They may often be seen
darting about under the bellies of horses, and between their
legs, the quadruped knowing from pleasant experience that
the pretty little feathered biped is one of his best friends.
Even the domestic cat, enemy as she is to birds—not
excluding wagtails—is apparently permitted to stalk, and
stalk, nearer and nearer to a pair of them when chasing
insects on the lawn. Only a few days ago I was an
interested spectator of such an incident. A pair of wagtails
which I had been watching for some little time, suddenly
became aware that a neighbour’s black cat was eagerly
glaring at them from the edge of the grass. They, of course,
were well out in the open, and apparently took not the
slightest notice. Little by little the cat made her approach,
catlike, her body pressed to the ground, her loose shoulder
joints showing well up above her back as she cautiously
moved inch by inch nearer her intended prey. They, either in
real or well simulated earnest, remained intent on flies. When
both their backs were turned grimalkin would make a rapid
move of perhaps three yards. Then he wasgluedto the ground
again. This continued for some time, a perfect object lesson
in what turned out to be hopeless stalking. When within
seven or eight yards the cat made a rush, and with a spring
tried for the nearest. This was evidently what the wagtails
wanted. To them it wasa game. Up they went with their

142 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

little te-weet, and then down again within ten yards or so of
their enemy. She, seeming to realize that she was being
made a fool of, gave up the chase, rolled over once or twice
nonchalantly as though to make it appear that her object,
too, was mere sport, and then quietly walked off.

These were a pair of pied wagtails, one of the common
kinds here during the winter. Their family title Wotacilla,
is merely Latin for the English name, but there is so much
difference of opinion amongst authorities respecting the
qualifying adjective attached to the various species,
that I prefer in this chapter to refer to the birds simply by
their English descriptions. “Polly wash-dish” is the Dorset
name for this familiar little bird, and “dish-wash,” “washer-
woman” or something of the kind seems to be a common
name for it in other countries as well. This is probably due
to its habit of wading in shallow water for the purpose of
capturing tiny fish, ‘tad- poles, water molluscs, and the like.
Washerwomen in Europe used to stand, and in some
countries do still, in the water for the purpose of cleansing
clothing on a stone as we formerly saw our own washermen
doing here in the filthy creeks around Shanghai. On land the
nimble wagtail is a splendid runner. He doesn’t hop as though
ona pair of wooden legs as the sparrow does. For his size, I
am inclined to think the wagtail more than a match for the
pheasant so far as pedestrian powers are concerned.

He is a beautifully marked little creature though dressed
in naught but black, white, and grey, and his clothes fit him
like a glove. There are no loose ends about him. Everything
isspickandspan. His tail, whose balancing feats give him his
common name, moves as though it were composed of one
feather instead of twelve. A very near relative, so near that
some people still think it a mere variety, is the so-called white
wagtail. Its main difference lies in the greater proportion
of lighter colour; habits, method of flight, and other things
being practically identical. Around Shanghai we have during
the colder months two or three species with a great deal of
yellow in their plumage. These are, perhaps, slightly smaller
than the common pied kind. What is called the grey wagtail
in England is principally distinguished from the two before-
mentioned by its yellow under parts. Its wings are dark, its
tail black and white, and its gorget also black. But its head
and the upper part of its back are of a bluish grey. It
exhibits on the wing all the undulatory graces common to
the genus. So quick are most of the wagtails that they
frequently use their powers of flight for the capture of their
prey. The yellow wagtail is entirely of the golden tint with
the exception of the wings and tail. These, as in the others,
are black with a white admixture. Still another, sometimes

WAGTAILS AND BUNTINGS. 143

known as Ray’s wagtail, is known in China. Indeed there
are several more, but considerations of space prevent a
notice of them all. Ray’s varies from all the rest in having
a delightful slaty-blue covering for the head lightened up
with a white eye-stripe. Its upper parts are a yellowish
green, whilst below there is pure yellow.

This species differs from the rest in its nesting place
which is usually amongst tufts of grass in meadow land or
waste ground. The other wagtails usually prefer a hole
somewhere or other, in a wall, in a decayed tree, or anywhere
convenient. I have seen wagtails’ nests in a bank near water,
or on the side of a hedgerow. They all lay about the same
sized egg, marked either with brown or reddish brown spots.
It is not an uncommon thing to find that the cuckoo has
deposited one of her eggs amongst the wagtail’s. Then, of
course, woe to the wagtail brood! They are shouldered out
by the still blind little murderer with a demoniac instinct
which secures its own maintenance at the expense of four
or five other lives. Seebohm tells of the early appearance
of the wagtails in Siberia where in the spring they are
amongst the first arrivals. In March, of this present year,
I watched the collection of a little band of them which had
all the appearance of being off on their northern journey.
They had collected on the roof of a building overlooking the
British Consular compound. Last month, I had the pleasure,
not of seeing an actual return, but of watching three new
arrivals, apparently two parent birds and a young one.
Paterfamilias was a little lame in the left leg. When he
remembered that fact he would stand pensive and rather
sad-looking with the weakened member tucked up under his
feathers. Then all of a sudden, if a fly showed itself on the
grass, down came the injured limb, and off went the bird in
hot chase utterly forgetful of injuries. Paterfamilias was,
except for the lameness, in the very pink of condition.
There was a good deal of difference between his plumage
and that of the other two. They stayed only for two or three
days, and then disappeared, probably for winter quarters a
little farther south.

The buntings, to which allusion has already been made
in an earlier chapter in connexion with their relatives, the
finches, claim a little further notice just now, because it is
not at all uncommon to see specimens of some of their species
whilst on their way south. Some buntings are with us
always. Others pay us flying visits in spring and autumn
on their way to and from their breeding places. I have had
an opportunity of watching a pair within the past fortnight,
the male of which was nearly as yellow as our British
yellow-hammer. If one keeps still, these birds seem to care

144 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

little or nothing for the mere presence of man, taking
as little notice as the British hedge-sparrow. So with
sharp eyes, or lacking these with a good binocular, it is
quite easy to watch for a considerable time whilst these
interesting little birds search about on the ground, round
tree-trunks, and amongst the grass for their food. China is
rich in members of the Emberiza tribe. In the north there
may be seen at the proper season the Lapland bunting,
Emberiza lapponica, a prettily marked species which sings
its little song whilst in the air. The reed bunting has borrowed
the appearance of the sparrow to such an extent as to be
very often called the reed sparrow. Well known in almost
all parts of China at the proper season is the yellow-breasted
bunting, E. aureola. No less common is the meadow bunting.
I have never met with our yellow bunting or yellow-hammer
in China. The male bird which I saw the other day was
only about as yellow as the female yellow-hammer in
England. The most lovely of all the buntings one may see, if
watchful and lucky, in the journey across Siberia. That is
the only place where it has been my good fortune to get a
glimpse of it as the train passed by. A very dainty little
creature is E. nivalis, the snow bunting, probably found on
Chinese soil only in the north, though it seems to visit the
south of Europe during the winter season. Instead of the
golden colouring of the yellow-hammer, it has white for the
head, neck, and under covering, the back, wings, and tail
only being provided with a darker tint. Last but not least,
the nearest relative in China to the celebrated ortolan, loved
of epicures, is a variety of our meadow bunting, E. cia.
There is nothing particularly striking in the appearance of
the ortolan, his arrangement of browns and yellows making
him out as a typical bunting. It is his misfortune that he
should, when caught and fattened for the table, be such good
eating.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

AUTUMN. MIGRANTS.

When the summer sun of South Kiangsu has gone down
for the last time, when frizzled humanity has congratulated
itself on the fact that at last the autumn winds do blow—
for have they not felt at early morn and dewy eve that crisp
suggestiveness of coming cold—then is the time to think of
human as well as avian migration. The wise man remains
in his own comfortable home whilst the thermometer riots
in the “nineties” and sometimes makes its century, but when
September has arrived, and the “hunter’s moon’s begun,”
then is the time for escape from darkened rooms into the
glorious light of the noon-day sun. Birds know it as well as
man. The earliest snipe has come before the tenth of August
perhaps. His cousins, a fortnight or three weeks later, fill
the night air with the cries of “disembodied spirits,” as the
Chinese believe, and then is the time for the naturalist-
sportsman. Off he goes, whenever he gets the chance,
up-country. His gun goes with him, but cover is too thick
for shooting unless he is out for specimens.

He is sure, however, to see some of the passing
migrants. A few of the more delicate leave in August, some
of the most brilliant fly-catchers, for instance, but the orioles
stay on into September,and some of the fly-catching fraternity
also. It was late in August that I once saw a Dhyal bird
(Copsychus saularis), the only one I have ever seen in China.
It is common enough in warmer climes, in India, for instance,
but only very occasionally gets so far north as this, which is
a pity, for its bright sprightly appearance would bea distinct
addition to our bird life. In size it is no bigger than a bulbul;
in marking it is not unlike the magpie. All through the
months of September, October, and November, autumn
migrants are coming or going. Up-country amongst the
woods, one may yet in early September see a specimen of the
Narcissus fly-catcher in his beautiful livery of black and gold.
If he is amongst the bamboos his tints merge so completely
into theirs that without very keen eyes or some movement
on the part of the bird, he may easily be passed unseen.
Still more easy is it to miss his cousin (Cyanoptila cyanome-
laena), if he happens to be perched in the shade, for beautiful

146 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

as he is with his Cambridge-blue back, his blue-black breast
and white continuations, he also seems to form part and parcel
of his background. But once seen he is worth watching for
any length of time that his restlessness permits. He is about
the size ofa robin, the British robin-redbreast, not the
American robin, which is bigger and is really a thrush, I
believe. If fortune favours, your trip may bring you face to
face with another charming little bird on its way back to the
south. I saw one on the passage north in the spring, but have
not been favoured with a similar vision since. He also is
very robin-like in shape, movement, and even in colour, for
his back is of the same brown, and his breast is red, but the
red does not cover the whole of his under parts as in the
redbreast, and the tint from the lower bill down over the
throat is a bright canary yellow merging into the red below.
This is the red-billed Liothrix. He would certainly be called
a robin if he were in England, though he is really related
to the bulbuls. Of these we have plenty. The common
bulbul (Jxus Sinensis) is nota migrant in this neighbourhood,
but stays with us the whole year through, and ought to meet
with more appreciation than he does, for he has not a little
quiet charm both of feather and manner. But his chief
claim to consideration is the fact that when other birds have
ceased their songs, when the little pipe of the hawfinch has
ended, and the song of the blackbird is a reminiscence of
spring, the bulbul does his very best to fill the gap. In the
early morning he may be heard carrying on a conversation
with all the other bulbuls in the neighbourhood, for his voice
production is rather in the talking than in the singing line.
One lies in the bunk and listens. The outer door of the boat
is open, as are the skylights. Every note is clear and dis-
tinct, every syllable, I should have said, and imagination
at once begins to put words to the calls. Surely that
was a little chuckle at a sparkle of avian wit just expressed.
Every sentence is short and crisp, not more than tive or six
syllables as a rule, and so the talk goes on for half an hour
or more. I have some reason to believe, though I have not
seen them, that certain of the green species of bulbuls are to
be met with amongst the hills round the Ta-hu.

What a delight it is to spend a few days of our glorious
autumn weather in that classical neighbourhood, to drink in
the intoxicating air of the hills, to look out over the far-spread
lake, the wooded slopes, and all the endless beauties of a plain
“well watered everywhere, even as the Garden of the Lord.”
Those glorious autumn tints, if the excursion be about the
beginning of November, before the big blow has come down
from the north-west, are tints to be excelled nowhere in the
world except, perhaps, in the woods of Virginia, and not even

AUTUMN MIGRANTS. 147

there if the landscape is rich in wax-bearing trees, for these
Tallow trees, asthey aresometimes called (Stillingia sebifera),
are unsurpassable anywhere. An orchard of tallow trees at
the right moment is a sight for the gods. All the red end
of the solar spectrum is there in flashes of living fire. The
scale is run from the green of the still sheltered and unaffected
leaves through greenish yellow to canary and orange, then
orange with touches of light pink, light pink on to darker pink,
and so through endless nuances to the most brilliant scarlet,
finishing up with the deepest crimson. Adequately to
reproduce the effect of such a sight is impossible even with
a palette: words fail ignominiously. We must await a
perfected system of colour photography before we can hope
to see an adequate representation of such autumnal glory.

If the occasion be well selected there may be other
beauties besides those of leaves, for there is nothing of which
birds of many kinds are more greedy than the fat tri-partite
berries of the Stillingia which take fire from a lighted match.
As these ripen gradually from the beginning of October to
the middle of November the trees need watching or nothing
in the shape of fruit would be left. I have seen half a dozen
blackbirds at atime gorging themselves withthe greatest gusto,
bulbuls just as eager, tits with an advantage over the heavier
birds since they can cling easily to the slender twigs on
which the berries grow, sparrows, finches, the blue magpie
(Urocissa cerulea), and even our common friend the black
and white. Underneath, making a very good meal off the
berries shaken down, is the common dove (Turtur Sinensis).
All this to the naturalist is more pleasing than it is to the
farmer, with whom one can fully sympathize, for there really
is no limit to the rapacity of birds.

Mention of the tits reminds one of the not uncommon
appearance of a tiny little bird which passes us twice a year,
the gold-crest,or golden-crested wren, a lovely little creature
with all the agility of the tits and even more beauty.
Regulus oristatus, or R. Japonicus, as our local variety is
called, may frequently be met with in wooded parts. He
cares little for the presence of man, and will go on with his
leaf to leaf search for insects though a pair of human eyes
peers at him froma distance of a yard or two only. His olive
green is charmingly set off by the little golden crest which
gives him his name. Still more jaunty, if that be possible,
but less common, is the “Fire-crest,” R. ignicapillus, a close
relative of the gold-crest and about the same size. His
principal difference is a bright ruddy-orange crest in place
ofthe gold. Another crested bird well known in China, is the
Bohemian waxwing, also a migrant in most parts. Ampelis
garrulus is usually to be met with in flocks of varying size.

148 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

The waxwings get their name from their peculiar red, waxlike
appendageson the secondary wing feathers. They arepleasant
looking birds, dressed by no means showily inlight grey brown
above, black primary wing feathers, a tail tipped with a bar
of gold, a black throat, and wine-red tints for the under parts.
By the Chinese they are known as the “great peace birds,”
Tai-ping-tsiao. This in all probability is in allusion to their
general quietness, for notwithstanding (the classical garrulus
in the name, their only note is a soft, gentle, plaintive sort of
whistle. Some spend the winter in this latitude, or even
farther north. Other winter visitors will have arrived in
great numbers before the end of November. Already I
have seen two or three varieties of the thrush family. Some
merely give ts a call in passing, such, for example as the
rock thrush, which makes it way to the hilly districts in the
next province. One or more of the redwings stay the winter.
These may be found with a considerable number of friends
amongst cotton stalks so long as any remain.

But perhaps the most striking of our autumn callers is
the hoopoe, Ufupa Efops. There is an old eastern story of
the hoopoe. King Solomon was once nearly overcome with
the heat of the sun when on a journey. The king of the
hoopoes called together his subjects and these, flying over
the suffering sovereign, formed a cloud to shelter him.
Grateful for such service, King Solomon asked what return
he could make. “Grant that each of us may wear a golden
crown,” was the reply. The wise monarch shook his head,
but granted the request. Then arose sucha persecution of
hoopoes as never was. They were soon in danger of
extermination, and all because of the goldencrowns. “Pray,
O King, give us a crown of feathers instead,” pleaded the
humbled hoopoe monarch. And so it came to pass that the
hoopoe of the present day has that charming erectile buff
crest tipped with black! That, however, is by no means his
only attraction. Though buff is the governing tint of his
upper parts, his lower back and wings are beautifully barred
in black and white, as is his tail. In flight, this marking has
a far more striking appearance than when the bird is at rest.
His long slender bill, gracefully curved, and very sharp, is
another noticeable feature in his outfit. To the Chinese he
is sometimes known as the “coffin-bird,” from his liking for
the holes and hollow receptacles they provide for his nest.
In his breeding quarters the hoopoe is quite familiar, and
will nest anywhere in the neighbourhood of houses, even on
verandahs if he can find a suitable spot. In the winter, and
when migrating, he is a little more suspicious. But he well
repays watching, as do many others of which lack of space
forbids even mention.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

BIRDS OF PREY: VULTURES.

Nothing in the whole range of bird life challenges
attention more forcibly than the nature and habits of the
birds of prey. One bird lover may have as his particular
favourites for study a certain group of birds, another another,
but there is no one who takes any note of feathered life at
all but feels compelled to be interested in the eagle, the
falcon, the vulture, and the hawk. They typify in a very
important sense all that is perfect in the mechanism of flight,
all that is bold in the nature of courage, and all that is
striking in avian temperament, besides having that nameless
attraction which attaches itself to the bold buccaneer, be he
of the air or the water. Few if any of the rapacious birds
condescend to beauty of plumage. Not for them are the
rainbow tints of the tropics, or the brilliant metallic sheen so
often seen in temperate climes. Simple browns and greys
are the governing hues of the raptores. Here and there one
adorns himself with a crest, or a pair of horns, as the owl,
but as a rule the dress of eagles, falcons, and other preying
birds is of the plain work-a-day order, often apparently even
loose and ill-fitting.

Yet there is no lack of variety in theorder. They range
in size from the enormous vulture of the Andes, the spread
of whose outstretched wings is measured in yards, to the
tiniest little hawk or owl, barely larger than a good sized
thrush. In food they differ in the same degree. There is
all the difference in the world between the vulture tribe
which gorges itself on any dead bodies that it can find and
the dainty little hawk which darts through the air to seize a
finch, a sparrow, or even an insect. There is a natural
disgust in man at the mere thought of the vulture, which is
not lessened by his repulsive appearance, and still more
repulsive manner of feeding. There is nothing of that sort
experienced when one sees the lightning flashofafalcon, or the
dart of a hungry kestrel. One hears the chased blackbird’s
agonizing cry; perhaps one thinks of a songster the less and
feels sorry for his fate, but such occurrences are in the
nature of things. The pain is soon over, and Nature is,
as the poet tells us, “red in tooth and claw with ravin.”

150 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

We can no more understand it than we can stop it.
Besides, many of the preying birds are of great use to man.
Some have developed a taste for all forms of reptile life, and
wage incessant war on snakes, lizards, frogs, and the like.
Others take to vermin, and decimate the ranks of rats and
mice. Not a few have lost all taste for “red meat” and
live on fish. Still others pursue insects. Few indeed there
are which are dangerous to domesticated animals. The
golden eagle finds it at times easier to get an unprotected
lamb than a scurrying hare, and so takes toll from the
sheepfold, and has even been known to go so far wrong as to
assault the children of the shepherd himself. That, of course,
gets him into trouble, for regal as he is, and proud as any
land-owner may be to have such a tenant on his property,
human life is sacred, and a rifle bullet or a charge of buck-
shot is apt to be the avenger of the child and the mentor of
better manners.

Another point which makes the birds of prey part and
parcel of the bird lore of all climes is their practical ubiquity.
The sparrow is easily acclimatized anywhere. One sees him
beneath the vertical rays of an equatorial sun: one finds him
at home in Siberia with the very soil frozen feet deep, and
wherever it is possible for the sparrow to live, it is possible
for the sparrow-hawk to live on him. And not only the
sparrow-hawk but many others. Crossing Siberia in the first
flush of the year’s early warmth, say in May, the keen
observer is astonished at the wealth of bird life, and not
least in that section of it which we are now considering.
Many of these birds have crossed from distant Malaya, from
the Indian Archipelago, from India itself, and even from
Southern Africa. What are such distances to the falcon
family to some of whom a hundred miles an hour is child’s
play? So it is that the spring and autumn migrations of
which we have already spoken do not consist merely of the
ducks and geese, the snipe and plovers, the finches, warblers,
fly-catchers, etc. but of those also which prey onthem. Itisin

birdlife as a humourous poet described it amongst the insects:
Big fleas have little fleas upon their backs that bite ‘em,
and little fleas have lesser fleas, and so ad infinitum.

Of the many varieties of rapacious birds the world over
we in China have no fewer than 63 species as described by
Pére David. These include both the diurnal and the nocturnal
kinds, the former being in the ratio of forty-six to nineteen
of the latter. China is, therefore, well represented in the
raptorial kingdom, and a visit to the Shanghai Museum will
show that the collection there bears evidence to our wealth
in this respect. We have vultures and eagles, hawks and
harriers, falcons, buzzards, kites and so on. The owls, too,

BIRDS OF PREY: VULTURES. 151

are fairly represented. Naturally the Chinese have made
the best use they could of such opportunities. In all countries,
the combined swiftness and hunting instincts of hawks and
falcons have been utilized in the service of man. Needless
to say such a source of profit and pleasure has not been
neglected here. Up north, and wherever the country is open
enough to permit of it, hawking is to-day in as great demand
by country sportsmen as ever it was two or three hundred
years ago in England. On foot and on horseback is the
chase carried on, with hawks of all sizes, falcons, and even
eagles, the last being trained to follow the larger four-
footed quarries, hares, antelopes, foxes, etc. One small
variety of hawk is trained to catch sparrows in the environs
of Peking. It will probably be necessary to dwell further
on this portion of our subject in a later chapter.

Of the vulture family we have but three to account for,
and these may be disposed of at once. ‘The first is Vudtur
monachus, so called from a fancied similarity between its
ruff-like neck feathers and a monk’s cowl. He is a big bird,
4ft. in length and witha corresponding spread of wing.
Only when pressed by hunger does he venture to attack
living creatures. David says his visits to China proper are
rare, but he is known to the northern Chinese as the “great
black eagle,” his colour being really a dark chocolate brown
shading into black with lighter marking on the breast. In
Mongolia he is commoner. There is nothing to boast either
in his manners or his morals. In common with his tribe he
is repulsive to the eye, and to the nose; sluggish, inert, filthy,
and cowardly. Once in the air, however, he becomestotheeye
transformed. There is nothing graceful inhisflightas flight, for
his wings flap heavily and laxly, but his soaring ascent in
spiral curves is something to wonder over, something for an
airman to watch, to envy, and so far as may be tocopy. His
downward descent, a “coast” of thousands of feet, is in its way
equally wonderful. In the long-lived discussion respecting
the question whether the vulture is attracted to his prey by
sight or scent nobody seems to have referred to one very
obvious fact, viz. that vultures are well known to descend
and surround not only dead animals but sickly ones, especially
those very near their end. This of itself ought to have gone
far to settle the dispute, for there is no offensive smell from
an animal yet alive. Experiments have proved, however,
that it is sight rather than scent that brings the vulture from
heights and distances beyond the ken of man to feast on
fallen prey. Stuffed animals have attracted them, whilst
hidden decaying bodies in a high state of putrefaction have
been passed by though it was unquestionable that the vultures
knew there was food near.

152 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

Another visitor to China is the Himalayan griffon, Grps
Himalayensis. He is a bird of the rocks, nesting high up on
inaccessible cliffs. Canon Tristram, quoted in “The Royal
Natural History,” says that he once saw a griffon which had
eaten till it could no longer stand, and yet was still continuing
its feast lying on its side. No wonder it is said this particular
vulture is capable of long fasts. Itis not amongst the common
visitors to China, but has been seen in the Central provinces.

Our third representative is Gypetus barbatus, which is
no other than the well-known Lammergeier of the Alps, the
bearded vulture. True vultures have the head bare or downy:
the lammergeier’s is feathered. In this as in some other
respects he approaches the eagle family. He, also, is a big
bird, some three and a half feet in length and of great wing
power. He loves the mountains over whose tops with his
eight or nine feet expanse of wing he sails majestically
through the blue. His wings and tail are long and pointed, a
contrast against those of the ordinary vulture tribe. Itis said
that the last Swiss specimen was poisoned in 1887, its mate
having been killed as long before as 1862! The Asiatic
bird seems to be a true vulture in its feeding, and attacks
nothing living, unless possibly driven by hunger to do so. It
breeds from November to February on inaccessible ledges
thousands of feet above the sea. Asa rule, there is buta
single egg. It is only in the mountainous parts of Mongolia
and Manchuria that the lammergeier is ordinarily to be seen,
and there, of course, only as a migrant. Its appearances in
China proper are extremely rare. Indeed the larger portion
of our raptorial birds come and go with the seasons, some
leaving, others coming, during the winter or summer as the
case may be.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

EAGLES.

Poets and politicians have combined in all ages to
celebrate the pre-eminence of the eagle. He was the Bird
of Jove to the Greeks, and one of his names in Chinese
“Shén ying” would seem to connect him with the Deity also,
since the “shén” is the same character as that used in
reference to soul, spirit, etc. The Roman soldier went into
battle at times only because his “eagle” led the way. In
various heraldic forms we find the king of birds adopted as
a national emblem by Germany, Russia, France, Austria, and
the United States. It was, I think, Washington Irving or
Benjamin Franklin who objected to the white-headed eagle
as the representative of a democratic people, since instead of
working honestly for his own living he subsisted on plunder
got from the osprey. At least one Englishman, Captain
Bendire, has come to the rescue, and has proved that
the white-headed eagle hunts for himself, and more
often winged than finny prey. It is only when the temptation
is irresistible that he takes to plunder, and what human
being can condemn that? Those who live in glass houses
should not malign bald eagles.

There is reason for the profound impression which the
eagle has made onthe mind of man. His eye, his pinions, his
talons, his strength, his courage, and his evident superiority
to the rest of the feathered race have all been such frequent
themes of admiring prose or poetry as to bring into proverbial
use many sayings respecting them. There are, of course
eagles and eagles. They are not all of the “Imperial” or
“Golden” type. Some are closely allied to the vultures, and,
if it may be whispered of royalty, even the noblest of the
kind occasionally likes, yes, likes its game “high.” Fulsome
praise begets undeserved detraction. Modern writers
frequently call in question the high character given.
by their predecessors to the eagle family. “Bold,
indeed,” says one detractor ofthe Imperial eagle, “why,
I have seen him put to flight by a couple of crows. .
To my mind he is no better thana big hulking kite.”
And the world of naturalists has none too much love
for kites. But we have all seen similar incidents; sleepy,

154 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

winking owls being mobbed, for example, by all the little
feathered termagants of the neighbourhood; or a well-fed
hawk permitting his otherwise easy prey to pester him with
impunity. In Scotland they think there is another reason for
the well known complaisance of the golden eagle. That
complaisance is shown only in the neighbourhood of his
home. There the law of the jungle forbids destruction, and
that in the ill-bred—crows and sparrows, for example—has
the result usually attributed to familiarity. If you want to
understand this thoroughly, you should make a study of the
laws, customs, traditions and jurisprudence of wild life as
laid down in the inspired works of the creator of Mowgli,
Mr. Rudyard Kipling. Yet even eagles make occasional
mistakes. Those who live on fish, for instance, now and
then grasp at more than they can carry, and instead of
emerging with exultant screams, prey in talons, are dragged
beneath the surface to a watery death. Or such dubious
creatures as the stoat, or polecat, or even the domestic cat
at times, are seized in such a way as to allow free play to
the weapons which they, as well as their assailant, possess.
Not a few instances of eagles meeting their doom thus are
on record. But as a rule the natural weapons of a full
grown eagle are enough to ensure the instant death of any
quarry which it attacks. With an extreme weight of
18 pounds, the blow from a swiftly descending eagle's body
is sufficient to send its largest winged prey, the swan, for
instance, dead to the ground without a touch of the talons.
The beak is never used in killing. When the talons are,
they are, as a rule, amply sufficient, for, in good sooth, what
are they but eight sharp-pointed spears inserted just where
experience has shown the vitals to be, and when they attain
a length of three inches, as the centre talon of the eagle
does, one or two of the eight are pretty sure to get home.
All that is necessary to drive them in to their extreme length
is a bending down of the body as though in the act of
grasping a perch. The action of the talons is purely automatic
under those circumstances. Once I shot a hawk which I
wanted as a specimen. He was resting on a branch
all unaware of the murderer close at hand. Being killed
instantaneously, all the change that appeared after the shot
was an inversion of position. The bird was hanging head
downward from the branch instead of being seated upon it,
the claw grasp remaining as in life.

China is well patronized by eagles of one sort and another.
Amongst the sea-eagles, one of the finest is Haliaétus albicilla,
the white-tailed eagle, the female of which reaches a length
of some thirty-eight inches, the male, as is usual in this family,
being somewhat smaller. Some of the fish-eagles confine

EAGLES, 155

themselves to the coast and live on prey snatched from the
salt sea waves, but others are to be found far inland where-
ever lakes or large streams provide the required nourishment.
‘The white-tailed variety is known to British ornithologists
as the erne. He does not confine himself to finny prey, but
often makes inroads on the farmyard or field, snatching up
a fowl, a young pig, or anything within reach. The Chinese
variety nests in Kiangsi, travelling in pairs when on migra-
tion. Most of the fish eagles seem to like nesting on tall
cliffs, but they will make use of trees when necessary. The
nest grows year by year to an enormous size. At its best
the white tailed eagle is a fine bird, its yellow beak, cere, and
feet contrasting with the lighter and darker browns of the
body, whilst the tail gives its great distinguishing feature.
There is a specimen in the Shanghai Museum.

H. pelagicus is even larger than H. albicilla, the female
being forty-one inches over all. She is, indeed, the largest
of her family, and with pure white for wing and tail coverts
as well as for the thighs, is lightened in colour much more
than most of her relatives. This sea-eagle, however, is not
a frequent visitor to us.

H,, leucogaster, the white-bellied sea-eagle; is of slighter
build, and reaches only some twenty-eight inches. There is
a specimen in the Shanghai Museum, but I am of opinion
that it has come from some other land than China. It is,
however, common from India to Australia.

H. leucocephalus, or H. Washingtonii, as Audubon
patriotically calls it, is a visitor to N.W. Asia and Mongolia,
and is known to the Chinese as the white-headed eagle.
The epithet “bald” so often applied to it has no grounds
for use that I know of, for the bird is not bald at all,
but has its head covered with feathers of a pure white,
whence its proper name. It is certainly astriking creature
not only from its size, 38 inches, but from the contrasts
provided by its plumage. The dazzling white of the head,
neck, and tail, togethér with the tail coverts, stands out in
strong distinction to the dark chocolate brown, shading
almost into black, of the body parts, whilst the yellow of the
beak and feet provides a tinge of gold which enriches the
picture immensely. There is all the difference in the world
between the description of the white-headed eagle by an
arm-chair ornithologist, and that of another by one who
loves the field. The former may rouse our envy by the
precision with which hetellsoffthe number of feathers ina tail,
the number of inches to the primaries, and the microscopic
differences to be found between the skulls of two allied
varieties, but it is the latter which lives. Under the pen of
an Audubon the bird stands before us, a picture of nature not

156 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

only in her outward appearance but in all her moods. We
see the eagle in swift descent, the fall of the thunderbolt
hardly eclipsing it. We see it in attack, eye flashing,
feathers ruffling, talons ready. Then it appears in softer
mood, when the breeding season has arriyed, and there are
chicks to feed. Such pictures can be drawn only in the open
air, coloured only under the dome of the sky, and finished
only by one in entire accord with life in every phase. We
have a good deal of sympathy with the impatience with
which practical naturalists like Mr. Roosevelt sometimes
receive the humanized portraits of their feathered or furred
friends reeking of the midnight oil.

The eagle with the fawn-coloured lower parts, HA.
fulviventer, or Aquila leucorypha, is also a visitant to the
Chinese Empire, and like many of its relatives pays toll in the
form of primary or tail feathers for the making of fans. The
Chinese in some parts of the country are particularly fond
of fans of this description. One other bird may be mentioned
in this chapter, Bonelli’s hawk-eagle, Nisaetus fasciatus, of
which the Shanghai Museum has a specimen, though I cannot
find it under thesamenamein David. For size it may certainly
rank with the eagles, since it attains a total length of 36 inches,
and is thus about two-thirds the size of the goldeneagle. In
Indiaitis colloquially known as the “ peacock-killer,” peacocks
being wild in that favoured land. But it takes pigeons and
other birds of like size. Water-fowl, too, it particularly likes.

The true eagles demand a chapter to themselves.

CHAPTER— XXXIX.

EAGLES—(Continued.)

There are a few characteristics of the true eagles which
are apt to be overlooked by the bird-lover whose knowledge
is mainly traditional. He has heard so much, for example,
of the boldness, the courage, and the rapacity of the eagle
that he will be surprised to learn that the royal bird has to
give pride of place in respect to real courage to the falcons.
Then, again, he is aptto be misled respecting the true haunts of
the various branches of the eagle family, the misunderstanding
arising largely from the fact that the eagle does not attain to
really adult plumage till he ts five or six years old. Between
his first fledging and his feathered maturity, therefore, he is
passing through a number of gradual changes, and it is
largely due to this that confusion has arisen in the descrip-
tions of various observers, the eagle not being provided, as
the horse is, with age-telling teeth. As we shall see later,
climate and surroundings make their mark over and above
these general considerations, for eagles, like men, are not a
little made by their environment. They all bear, however,
unmistakable marks of their regal lineage in the moderately
long, strong beak, curving from the cere, the wings large and
long, the generally plain coloured plumage, rarely passing out
of the various tints of brown, the iris of the same shades, and
the large muscular body and limbs with talons formidable
even to man and the larger mammals.

We give, as is his due, precedence to the king of birds,
the Golden Eagle, Aquila chrysaétos. It is with some regret
that we have to acknowledge that democracy has not been
content to let even his title to royalty remain unchallenged.
Tradition counts little to the ikonoclast, be he political or
ornithological. And so it has come to pass that there are
writers and observers in these days who do not hesitate to
declare that the claims of the golden eagle to monarchical
honours are not to be substantiated. I have no doubt that
what they say iscorrect of the specimens which they have
observed. Just so there is at this present moment in
Peking a drunken, gambling, swash-buckler who was once
heir apparent to an empire.

But A. chrysaétos at his best deserves the homage paid
him through all the ages. His better half measures a good

158 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

yard in length, he being a little shorter. When with
outstretched pinions he dominates the air for miles around
him, there are few would care to deny his right. The only
really golden parts about him are his feet and cere, the bare
covering of the root of the beak. As has been already
remarked, his plumage is variable. At times there is a rich
ruddy brown with a yellowish tinge to it, especially to that
part covering the head and neck, but it is not uncommon in
older specimens for this to have disappeared in favour of
darker hues, a chocolate brown taking its place. Occasionally
white varieties have been seen.

Why the golden eagle should be so wide-spread is easily
comprehensible. One has but to watch the tiny territory
governed by a pair of magpies, to see with what jealousy they
view any intrusion on the part of their own kind, and with
what vigorous offensive they resent it. An American observer
tells us that in the wildest parts of Oregon eagles’ nests are
as a rule some twenty miles apart. It is no wonder then that
the golden eagle has spread over all northern Europe and
Asia, that he is identical with his so-called Canadian
relative, and goes south even as far as Mexico, that
he is known even in India and breeds in Algeria. To
him space is a necessity. He makes his home, as other birds
make theirs, according to circumstances. If cliffs are
available, he has a seeming preference for them. If not, tall
trees, or even the steep worn sides of a river canyon will suit.

In the northern parts of China he is well known. There,
plumage takes on so dark a chocolate hue as to warrant the
natives, in their more or less inexact way, calling him the
“black eagle.’ Specimens in the Shanghai Museum show
that their error is excusable. They know him, moreover, as
a bird trained to use for man. Manchus and Tartars, men
of the plains from birth as they used to be, have not
yet lost their love for the chase, and not only use
various kinds of hawks and falcons, but have even trained
the king of birds himself to aid them in the attack and
capture of the larger bids and medium-sized mammals.
Hares, gazelles, foxes, and even wolves are sometimes
hunted in this way, the yelling troop of excited horsemen
trying to keep up with their winged allies forming a picture
for a Caton Woodville to depict. What destruction may be
wrought amongst game and wild fowl by eagles is seen from
an account of the examination of the surroundings of an eyrie
in Germany, where there were found the remains of some
three hundred ducks and forty hares!

Next in order, and quite close in rank to the golden, is
the Imperial eagle, A. imperialis, or A. mogilnik. During
certain stages of development the imperial is so much like the

EAGLE. 159

golden eagle as to be easily mistaken for it. Once it has
attained maturity however, there should be no difficulty.
The imperial eagle is somewhat smaller than his rival, the
female measuring not more than thirty-two inches as a rule.
It is a little more stoutly built also. Its range is less wide.
only southern Europe and Asia seem to know the two royal
birds. Imperialis has the same yellow cere and feet—most
eagles have—and a good deal of the same light and chocolate
brown, but there resemblance ends. The head and nape of the
neck are much lighter, and there is a sequence of lighter
feathers descending back and reaching to the tail coverts.
The shoulders are covered by patches of pure white, a very
clear and distinctive mark. The primaries are almost black,
as is the tip of the tail, though its upper parts are considerably
lighter. So far as mere looks go, many people would award
the palm to the imperial, and not the golden, eagle.

Opinions as to his other qualities vary immensely, from
which it may be gathered that circumstances alter cases in
bird life as in our own. “There is great beauty and majesty
in his movements,” says one writer. “He is little more than
a great hulking kite,’ says another. “Noble and courageous,
fiercer even than the golden eagle,” writes an admirer.
“Beaten by crows,” retorts the cynic. “Only in default of
live prey will he touch carrion,” declares Laudator. “He is
generally a foul eater,” asserts Detractor. Andso the wordy
war goes on, the sensible man seeing the true explanation in
change of environment.

Another eagle well known to the Chinese is A. clanga
or Falco rapax, as some authorities dub him. He is
lighter in tint all over except on the wings and _ tail.
From his tawny colour he is known to the Chinese as the
“yellow eagle,” sometimes as the rat-catching eagle, his
favourite prey being rodents and the smaller mammals. In
some places it would seem that this fare is varied widely,
lizards, snakes, and even the larger insects being taken into
favour at times. The tawny eagle is not so large as either
of the foregoing, its length running to about 28 inches or so.
One authority makes A. clanga to be a very degenerate
branch of the regal tree, existing, as he says it does, more as
a parasite than as a bold robber. This it achieves by watching
the captures made by other birds of prey and then swooping
down to deprive them of their booty.

The spotted eagle, A. maculata, is slightly smaller still,
attaining only some twenty-five or twenty-six inches. But
for the spots of white on the tips of his feathers, the spotted
eagle would be very much like his nobler cousin, the golden.
There are the same yellow cere and feet, the same chocolate
-brown, more uniformly dark, however, the same bluish

160 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

horn-coloured head, and the same black talons. A further

resemblance is to be found in the immense area of its habitat.

It seems to have made the greater part of Europe and Asia

its home, and where it does not regularly reside it comes at:
times as a visitor. This is the case with the northern and

eastern parts of China. Farther south, and in Tongking and
Siam, the bird is much more common. It is said that the

white marks tend to vanish with age. A. maculata isa hunter
of small mammals, but has a particular liking for feathered

food in the form of ducks.

It is said to share a trait common to other eagles and'
birds of prey, a trait already mentioned in a preceding
chapter, that of the perfect toleration of smaller birds and
animals near its home. Some birds are said even to nest
amongst the huge agglomeration of sticks which the eagle:
collects for its own eyrie.

Last of the five eagles on our list is Shizactus Nipalensis, .
a “piping” eagle coming only as an occasional visitor, though
apparently having a liking for Formosa. It is described as
being a terrible foe both to pheasants and squirrels. The-
crested Sfizaétus is quite a dandy amongst the eagles. It
has a handsome topknot of golden brown feathers dashed
down the middle with black, and rising from a pure white
forehead. A splash of black surrounds the eye, and then
the white descends to the very feet, covering breast and
belly. The back and wings are a ruddy brown, the tail, a
black-barred slaty blue. There is more of the falcon than of
the eagle look about this handsome bird.

CHAPTER XL.

FALCONS: THE PEREGRINE.

Therearevarious reasons why, amongst the discriminating

:as well as the undiscriminating observers of birds, falcons
-should hold perhaps the very highest rank. In the first place
‘there is the inimitable boldness, combined with a dash and
go unapproached by any other birds. Man loves even a
robber, provided his robbery has a dash of the dare-devil in
‘it. This moreover, is an age of “record” collecting, and the
‘superlative in any form of sport is sure of its fame until
eclipsed. But man was an admirer of speed before the days
-of stop-watches, and we should have to go back to prehistoric
‘times before we came to the first mental record—if that were
available—of the speed of a peregrine or a hobby. I remember
‘seeing one of the former at apparently full speed several
years ago. It wason the borders of the provinces of Kiangsu
and Chekiang. The season had been mild. The day had
‘been one of those absolutely perfect days which Dame Nature
-so generously deals out to this part of the world at Christmas-
‘time. Iand my companion had been shooting the whole day,
and had just returned to the boat. The sun was about to go
down, and so was throwing aslant his clear ruddy beams
-across the landscape, making those glorious changing pictures
only to be seen during a few gorgeous minutes at such a time.
‘Out of the north came the peregrine, his course due south.
He passed us at a distance of sixty or seventy yards perhaps,
‘not more than 30ft. above the ground, and looked as though
he might have an appointment in Canton between five and
‘six. It was then half-past four or so. We saw him appear,
we saw him pass, his lighter under parts ablaze in sunset
tint; and we saw him disappear. Then we looked at one
another, laconically asking, What pace that? We could but
guess, of course, but we both agreed that three times the
‘speed of a mile a minute train was somewhere about it.
Never before or since have I seen animal motion approaching
-this rate except, perhaps, in a sudden dash for a short distance.
Yet there is reason to believe that the speed of the hobby
-outranks even that of the peregrine. I saw one some eighteen
months ago cross the Racecourse at Shanghai much as the
-peregrine was travelling, but it was not in so favourable a

162 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

position to observe, nor was the light so good. We know
that swallows can easily cover a mile and a half in the minute,
and it is generally believed that the swift as easily passes
the swallow. When, therefore, one reads, as might have been
done in a recent copy of “Country Life,” a letter descriptive
of the capture of swifts on the wing by a hobby, one is
prepared to believe that handsome little falcon ranks
amongst the very fastest, if he is not actually the fastest,
of birds.

Such qualities would be a sure passport to popularity if
they stood alone. But they do not. For strange though it
seems, these fierce birds are amongst the most docile of the
avian tribe. They might be termed the greyhounds of the bird
world. The dog in his wild state doubtless knew his own
limitations. Very soon after his first association with man,
he must have discovered how much better a chance he had
of securing his prey when, to his own powers, there was
added the sagacity of his master. Just so with the birds of
prey. We have seen that in China even the king of birds
himself thinks it no disgrace to hunt with man. The aid is
mutual. Falcons of various kinds are not merely docile:
when sympathetically treated, they evince an actual love for
those who train, feed, and work with them, and will return to
the shoulder or wrist of aloved master as adog will return to
his heels. Herein lies a particular and personal reason why
man thinks even more of the falcon tribe than he does of the
bigger and more powerful eagles. The matter of falconry is-
one to which we must return by and by. It is time now to
look at the representatives of the genus Falco as we find
them in China. There are many which never appear in this
part of the world, but we have more than enough to afford
interest to up-country wandering.

Falco peregrinus, the peregrinating, or wandering, or
pilgrim falcon, is our finest. He is almost ubiquitous, and is
easily distinguished from several minor kinds by his size,
reaching in his noble self to some fifteen inches in length,
and that of his still nobler partner, whom he takes “for
better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, till death us do
part,” to about two inches longer. As the peregrine always
takes its food in the air, or with a swoop off the ground, it
is easy to see what advantage it gains from the help of men
and dogs to start its hidden quarry. The prey once taken,
the appropriateness of the term falco, whence comes our
“falchion,” is seen at once, for the cutting power of the
sharp bill is extraordinary. Thomas Edward, the Scottish
naturalist to whom I have before referred, tells how he once
watched the dissection of a partridge, of which he had seen
the capture, by a peregrine. The prey was not merely

FALCONS: THE PEREGRINE. 163

feathered but skinned, from the neck downwards, the flesh
being separated into portions, “with as much apparent ease
as if he had been operating with the sharpest surgical
instrument.”

There is nothing specially handsome in the appearance
of the peregrine if we except what may be termed his moral
qualities. He is darker on the head and back than some of
his relatives, but his under parts are light comparatively,
the throat being marked with blackish vertical bars, whilst
the breast and lower parts generally are barred transversely.
These markings on the thigh are characteristic and serve as
a distinguishing sign. The cere and feet are yellow, the beak
a horrfy blue. Though the peregrine is common in the
central provinces of China, the bird is not of. those usually
employed by the Chinese in hawking. The peregrine loves
aretiring place amongst high land, but for food it rather
prefers lower ground and especially that in the neighbour-
hood of water, for though all sorts of game birds, grouse,
partridges, etc. are welcome items in its bill of fare, it has
also a fondness for most kinds of water birds, duck, teal, and
widgeon amongst the web-footed, and curlew, whimbrel,
woodcock, and snipe amongst the waders. It has been
estimated in Scotland that a pair of peregrines kills something
like 300 brace of grouse in the course of a year, and one can
hardly be surprised that the mere “preserver’ of game,
and still more he who has an eye to the marketable
value of his wild life, should look with a not too friendly
eye on so rapacious a neighbour. Hence it too often
comes to pass that a charge of No. 1, 2, or 3 comes into
play, and Falco peregrinus is fortunate if he falls into the
hands of a Rowland Ward, and notofan “artist” whohasnever
seen a peregrine in the life. Well set up, he may yet be “a
joy for ever,” otherwise ! There is this to be said in
favour of the peregrine: even on a game preserve, heinfallibly
kills off all weakly birds and so maintains the general health-
iness of the community.

Owing to the many variations in plumage due partly to
immaturity, and partly to local conditions, there has been a
great amount of uncertainty respecting the true life and
appearance of the peregrine. I am afraid that the number
of ornithological compilers of bird books is far greaterthanthe
number ofthose who have done as Thomas Edward did, that is,
who have made a study of wild life at firsthand. Respecting
the incident of the slain partridge referred to above, he says,

“T was glad, nay proud, of this unlooked-for occurrence, as
I had never before, on any occasion, had the pleasure of
seeing any of these noble birds in a state of nature, or whilst
engaged in devouring their prey.” He then gives utterance

164 WILD LIFE IN CHINA

to a truth which all field naturalists will gladly echo: “If
painters, engravers, and preservers of animals, would
endeavour to get lessons from nature, and work accordingly,
the public would not be so often duped as they are.”” Refer-
ence to one after another of books on birds only serves to
show how very much has been borrowed by one from the
other. To anaturalist who had the time and the opportunity,
a careful search through volumes of “The Field,” “Country
Life,” and similar papers would discover a vast collection of
natural history notes whose mere existence shows more than
ordinary observing power and love of nature on the part of
the writers. These might be used as new illustrations of an
up to-date book. i

There is some difference of opinion even now as to the
exact manner in which the peregrine strikes his prey in the
air. Some think that it is shock and nothing else which sends
a duck dead to the ground. Others declare that this is unlikely
if not impossible, since the striker must feel the blow as much
as the one struck. There is on record, however, an instance
of a peregrine swooping through the glass roof of an aviary
with terrible effect inside but with no harm to himself. The
fact that several birds may be struck in the same ficck,
ducks or rooks, for example, seems to show that if the first
blow is due simply to momentum, the others need
something more, and the truth probably is that both
methods are used, the body blow, and the blow with the
claws as the second and subsequent swoops are made.
Small prey is simply clutched and carried off. The bill is
never used in killing. It is not often, probably, that falcons
make mistakes in their swoop, but instances are on record
where they have done so, the blow having been delayed too
long. A woodcock, for example, being too close to a tree
trunk is struck at through the branches with the result that
both attacker and quarry are dashed against the bole.
Similarly, when swooping at prey on the ground collision
occasionally occurs with a piece of rock or stone which served
partially to shelter the animal attacked.

The rule as to number of young seems to be that none
of the falcon family ever produces more than four in a season,
and the number is frequently less. Some of the birds used
in hawking are taken from the nest and brought up by hand,
others are caught innetsorsnares. Morris’s “ British Birds”
tells of a peregrine which fora while made its home on St.
Paul’s Cathedral, and was seen to seize pigeons in Leicester
Square.

CHAPTER XLI.

FALCON—THE SAKER, GOSHAWK, HOBBY,
MERLIN AND KESTREL.

I do not remember to have met the saker anywhere
near Shanghai or in the neighbouring province, but it is
common farther north, and is a very popular bird with the
hawking gentry of the northern plains. Readers must be
careful to remember that the classical term for this fine
bird, Falco sacer, has nothing in common with the Latin
“sacer” meaning “sacred” but is said to be derived from the
Arabic word for falcon. There is so much resemblance
between some of the varieties in the falcon family that names
are being constantly used the one for the other. Some
writers make Falco sacer and Falco lanarius, usually
known to Englishmen as the lanner falcon, to be identical.
‘Others separate them. Toshow the minute measurement used
in exactdifferentiation, the following, relating tothe saker, may
be quoted. ‘“‘Male—Length one foot seven inches six lines.
Wings thirteen inches and ahalf. Taileight inches. Female
—Length one foot eight or. nine inches. Wings fourteen
inches and a half. Tail eight inches and three-quarters.
Middle toe one inch eleven lines to two inches.” (Temminck
and Schlegel.)

The saker is considerably lighter in his back covering
than the peregrine, which he rivals in size. His head varies
from the lightest cream to dark brown with still darker
‘splashings typical of the birds of prey. His back is clothed
with dark brown feathers edged with lighter tints, his tail
barred. The dark markings on the under side are longitudinal
instead of transverse. He is known pretty well all over
Europe, and has always been prized for his use in sport. In
India he is used in the pursuit of the kite, a cousin of the
common bird which we see describing such beautiful aerial
spirals in the air above Shanghai during the winter. A
chase of that sort must be something worth watching, for
though the saker is more rapid in its movement through the
air, the kite is an excellent climber, and it is the fight for
height which constitutes half the battle in hawking. The
pursuer needs to rise above his quarry before the powerful
downward stroke is possible. Soinacase of this kind there is

166 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

a marvellous contest inascending grace. Each bird strives.
to outdo the other in the circling ascension. The falcon wins
in the end, but even then the victory is not so easy as if the
quarry were a partridge or aheron. The kite has as ugly a
beak and claws as the falcon himself. He is moreover gifted
with fairly good dodging powers when close pressed, and so
there is usually more or less of a fight in mid-air before the
superior bird brings its still struggling prey to the ground.
It is said that kites seem to recognize the saker as their
especial enemy, taking no notice of other falcons. In
northern China the saker is flown at pheasants and other
game birds, hares, and sometimes foxes. :

The Goshawk (Falco or Astur- palumbarius) differs
from the true falcons in not having the notched bill. He
differs, too, in his manner of attack and “rakes” his quarry
instead of ‘“‘stooping” at it, that is to say, he follows it at
practically the same level as the bird that is pursued. His
name shows one of his old uses, the pursuit of the wild
goose. Ata distance he might well be taken fora peregrine
by such as are not familiar with slight variations in flight,
but at close quarters it would be seen that the under markings
of the goshawk are lighter in colour, and the transverse
bars finer than those in the peregrine. The ground colour
too is practically white whilst that of the peregrine is a light
golden brown. The Chinese use the goshawk for the capture
of game much as they do the saker. Its general habits in
the wild state very much resemble those of the sparrow-
hawk, to which, except in size, it is frequently likened. It is
not by any means as swift on the wing as the falcons proper,
and is given rather to tiring down its prey then to capturing
it instanter. Partridges, grouse, etc. are started and marked
down, to be flushed again and again, until at last the covey
is completely worn out, and the goshawk finds it easy to kill
as many as he may need. It is the shorter primaries and
consequent loss of wing power which call for tactics
of this sort.

When we come to the Hobby (F. subbuteo), we finda
bird which, compared with the goshawk for speed, is like an
express train compared with a wheelbarrow. Nobody knows
exactly what a hobby can really do when put to it, but
the fact, already referred to, that he is able with ease to
capture swifts on the wing, serves to suggest that 200 miles
an hour, and perhaps more, is within the power of his
marvellous pinions. He is one of the smaller falcons,
comparable with the sparrow-hawk or the merlin, and may
be recognized by the tinge of slaty blue which ornaments his
back, wings, and tail. His under parts are of a buff brown
colour, the dark markings being bolder, fewer in number, and

FALCONS—THE SAKER, GOSHAWK, HOBBY, ETC. 167

arranged longitudinally. Altogether, the hobby is agentleman
both in appearance and daring. He gets his speed partly
from his elegant “lines” which enable him to pass through
the air with the least possible friction, but mainly from the
immense relative power of his wing muscles and the length
of his primaries, which when folded remind one of those of
the swallow tribe, as their points cross each other over the

tail. His lack of size and weight prevents the hobby from
’ attacking anything larger than small birds, and his use in
hawking is thus necessarily restricted, but he was at one
time very popular for flights at birds from the partridge
downwards. Pére David found the hobby in all parts of
China known to him. I have seen several cross the Racecourse:
at Shanghai, and only two or three months ago I had the-
pleasure of watching one seated comfortably on a rail within:
twenty or thirty yards of the Grand Stand entrance..
He was apparently in fine feather, and did not resent
examination at the distance named.

Besides hawking for snipe, quail, thrushes, larks, and
such-like winged game, the hobby will also take the larger
insects, dragon-flies, beetles, etc. In many cases when after
larger prey, the male and female hunt together, a combination.
which must render escape practically impossible.

The merlin (F. aesalon) is somewhat smaller than the
hobby, but not much. It is possessed of a far more
distinctly buff under covering and finer black markings which
thus distinguish it from the hobby. It is, moreover, of
stouter build. Owing to this it does not hesitate to attack
birds which very much outweigh it, plovers, pigeons, and
partridges falling frequent victims of its talons. Shore
birds such as the dotterel, dunlin, and others are sometimes.
followed even over the water.

In England the merlin is only a winter visitant to
the southern counties. It is, however, sedentary in Scotland,
and the other northern parts of Europe. I cannot say
positively whether it is often seen in this latitude. There is.
a specimen from Foochow in the Shanghai Museum, a dainty
little bird, instinct with spirit and courage. So eager in
pursuit is the merlin that, unlike the peregrine, itdoes not give
up when its quarry has reached the shelter of trees, but will
dart in amongst them and take its prey amongst the branches.
So keen is it in the chase that many instances are known of
its having pursued birds through windows into houses.
Once a partridge thus driven took refuge in a church
during service time, its fierce pursuer leaving it there.
Other birds followed by the merlin have been known to.
come for safety to pedestrians walking across country.

168 WILD LIFE IN CHIN As

With F. tinunculus, the kestrel, we must leave this most
attractive genus, although there are others known to various
parts of the Empire, the Peking and Amur falcons, for
example. The kestrel, however, serves well to bring this all too
incomplete notice to a close, for he is one of the best known
of our birds of prey. He may frequently be seen at The Hills
where his old English name of windhover is shown to be as
appropriate in China as it is at home, for he hangs hovering
in one spot here just as he does there, his wings a-quiver,
his eye searching the ground beneath for something on which
to drop. Sometimes he may be a hundred and fifty feet
high, perhaps: then after his quivering halt, he will circle
round in a spiral descent to only half that height or less,
and again hang motionless but for the tremulous wings.
The mere fact that kestrels are seen to be examining the
surface of the ground beneath them indicates that their food
is to be found there, which is, indeed, the case, the bird
‘taking fieldmice, voles, etc. and birds which are to be found in
similar positions, larks, quail, buntings, and so on. In this
way it doubtless does some damage amongst young game,
partridges, grouse, pheasants, etc. which will account for
the inimical feeling towards the kestrel shown by keepers
and game preservers at home. In real truth, however, the
balance of the evidence is in favour and not against the
kestrel, and one of the results of the plague scare now rampant
in Suffolk is the statement, constantly being reiterated, that
kestrels and other vermin destroyers should be left alone.
Old country people are hinting that the return of plague
after so many centuries is something in the nature of a
“judgement.” I have seen kestrels pursue quails which I
have put up at various times.

A trait characteristic of the eagle is not unknown in the
kestrel—his non-interference with birds which are his
immediate neighbours. The eagle goes afield to hunt. The
kestrel remains on patronizing terms with the little birds
living near its home. It would be extremely interesting to
know exactly how this “law of the jungle” first came into
force, who made it, and why.

The kestrel may be known by the closer approach to
copper colour shown by his back feathers and wing coverts.
His outspread tail is of a slaty blue with a broad black bar
near the tips, the actual tips being white. His breast and
underparts are of a rather dull shade of brown, with the
black markings longitudinal. The primaries are dark
chocolate with black bars. There is a lesser kestrel perhaps
.a little more handsome.

CHAPTER XLII.

HAWKS AND HARRIERS.

We now come to a more daring member of the raptorial’
family than perhaps any other, the Sparrow Hawk (Accipiter
nisus). One can hardly fail when reading of the boldness of’
this little bird—he is less than a foot long and weighs but
five or six ounces—to remember the action of the tiny British
war-vessels against the huge, unwieldy Spanish craft when
the “Invincible Armada” was making its lumbering way up
channel, for even the eagles are not immune from his attacks..
The king of birds himself, the golden eagle, has been known
to relinquish his prey as the result of persistent annoyance
by a sparrow-hawk!

Accipiter nisus isso well known that detailed description:
is hardly necessary. When he alights, his attitude aids in:
his identification. He stands almost bolt upright, the long
legs (a characteristic of his tribe) lifting him well above his
perch. Another characteristic is his short beak. For the
rest, his transversely barred breast, and the colouring of his
back and wings are much the same as in many others of the
raptores. He is a lover of wooded districts, in which he
makes bird food his almost sole sustenance. The kestrel
preys on the smaller quadrupeds. Accipiter nisus rarely looks.
at them, but anything winged and within his strength to carry
off is in danger when he is by, except that he, too, obeys the
law of the jungle and will often, if not always, suffer his
immediate neighbours to live their lives in peace and safety.
His flight is bold and dashing, causing him no apparent
exertion, the few flaps which. he is seen to make with his
wings now and then serving to give him pace enough to glide
along a valley, curving gracefully up over clumps of trees
without apparently moving a feather and sinking again on
the other side so as to keep just that distance above ground
which experience has taught to be best for his purpose. It
is the female which does most damage amongst the grown up.
game birds, such as partridges or grouse. She is somewhat
bigger, and sometimes twice the weight of her partner,
who for his own purposes keeps to the smaller birds, snipe,
quail, thrushes, blackbirds, etc., etc. That the gamekeeper
is right, from his point of view, in waging incessant
war against this marauder is certain, for there is on.

170 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

record the result of an examination of the immediate
‘surroundings of a sparrow-hawk’s nest giving the following
astounding statistics:—15 young pheasants, 4 young part-
ridges, 5 chickens, 2 larks, 2 pipits, and a bullfinch! As there
are sometimes as many as five young ones in a brood, all
characteristically voracious, there is need for a well-filled
larder, and it is probable that for digestion’s sake it is
desirable that food for the young birds should “hang” for
a few days.

As a trained bird, the sparrow-hawk is well known to the
Chinese, who use it for the capture of the smaller birds. But
its temper is excitable to an extraordinary extent, and
though capable, under kind treatment long continued, of
much gentleness and affection, is slow to learn and quick to
forget the little artificial lessons of the professional falconer.
Better for this purpose is Accipiter virgatus, a sort of lesser
sparrow-hawk, which migrates in large numbers from the
Malay peninsula, a favourite wintering place, to North China
and Siberia. Admirers of this bird insist on its general
‘superiority to its larger cousin. It is even more dashing,
especially when trained, and, if possible, still more bold. It
is much used in the north for flying at small birds. Unlike
the sparrow-hawk, which nests in a wood, not infrequently
depriving a crow or a magpie of its laboriously constructed
home, the smaller bird loves the hills for its place of
nidification, and there brings up its young. The goshawk,
which really belongs more nearly to this genus, has already
been mentioned amongst the falcons.

Another bird of an allied species, familiar to all
‘sportsmen throughout this part of China, is the hen
harrier, Circus Cyaneus. Considerably larger and heavier
than the sparrow hawk, being as much as 18 inches in length
sometimes, and weighing 12 or 13 ounces, the harrier has other
characteristics marking it off widely from its lighter, bolder,
and more dashing cousin. He is a bird of the air: the harrier
of the ground. Heconfines himself almost entirely to birds for
food, the harrier knows few if any limits and will kill a frog
or a snake, a mouse or a young rabbit as readily as he will
asnipe ora quail. But always on the ground. Even if he
follows his prey through the air, as I have often seen him
do, itis to drive it to earth. His flight has to be fairly
swift to allow of this being done, and there is much grace in
his gliding motion, though nothing comparable with the
dash of a sparrow-hawk, or the rush of ahobby. Itisavery
interesting sight to watch a hen harrier quartering the
ground in search of food. It works for all the world like an
aerial pointer or spaniel, zigzagging in the most scientific
manner until something is espied on the ground only a yard

HAWKS AND HARRIERS. 171

or two below. Then the swoop is made. Even at this
distance a quail is sometimes quick enough to get off. I saw
one once escape in this way only to be chased by a hawk at
which I fired and missed, the result being a triple disappoint-
ment, and what might almost be considered for the quail a
providential escape, for the harrier lost his quarry, the
sparrow-hawk was scared from his by the gun, and I missed
mine viz. the hawk.

Sportsmen who have read little respecting ornithology
will, perhaps, be still ignorant of the fact that the hen
harriers, male and female, differ so much in outward
‘appearance that they were long supposed to be of two
entirely different species. The first observer to discover
that this was not so was Willoughby, though the credit usually
goes to Montagu. The female was known as the ringtail,
and her colouring differs little in its browns, greys, and
‘similar mixtures from that of many other birds of prey. Seen
skimming the surface of the ground, one quite ignorant of
bird history might take her fora kite doing some unac-
‘ccustomed hunting. Her partner on the other hand is quite
different. He is a harrier masquerading in the plumage of
a gull. There is no specimen of the male in the Shanghai
Museum at present, and I have many a time tried to get one
to supply the lack. But, though not very uncommon, the ©
“White Hawk, Blue Hawk, or Dove Hawk”—he is known by
all these names—is difficult to get near when you want him.
Only twice have I had good chances, both of which were
spoilt by circumstances. On the first occasion the bird was
directly between me anda village well within range:
on the other, he had _ selected a background which
contained an ald village dame who was furtively watching
me out of the corner of her eye. So the Museum
remains without this handsome bird. The finest stuffed
specimen I ever saw belonged to Mr. Pearce, formerly of
Messrs. Weeks and Co. Its head is bluish grey, that tint
being the governing colour of the upper parts, as well as of
the neck and upper breast. The under parts are lighter, in
many cases a pure white; the tail coverts are white; the
central feathers of the tail blue, the others bluish grey
with dark bars; primaries on upper side dark brown to black.
Altogether the male hen harrier is a fine handsome bird, one
to stand and watch with pleasure as he quarters a moor or
marsh on the look-out for breakfast or supper. The harriers
are never far from the ground, on which or near which they
live and move, and have their being, the nest being either on
the soil itself or in some low bush.

It would be an extremely fascinating task to try to
unravelthe reason why there should be so marked a difference

172 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

between the male and the female of this species. It is easy
to understand the colouration of the female. Living as she
does on or near the ground, she needs all the protection that
earth tints cansupply. For this reason her dress is compar-
able with that of the partridge, quail, etc. But why should her
partner be made so conspicuous? His light tints show him
up the moment he moves; why should this be? He probably
takes no part in incubation and so runsno risks in that way,
and it may be that his showy colours serve to attract attention
from his mate when she is so engaged.

There is another very handsome harrier, known as
Montagu’s harrier, with most of its upper covering a delicate
greyish blue, breast of the same tint, with brown-speckled
under parts and outer tail feathers, and brown primaries. I
am not sure whether this species is ever seen in China.
Other kinds that are, are C. macrurus, the pale-chested
harrier, not unlike the male of the hen harrier. David says.
that this is rare out here, and I cannot recollect ever having
seen one myself. C. aeruginosus, on the other hand, is met
with not infrequently. This is the marsh harrier of England,
where, naturally, drainage has lessened its numbers con-
siderably. It is not unlike the female of the hen harrier in
appearance, but is somewhat more handsome with its slaty
blue wing coverts and tail. Like its cousin it is a searcher:
of the ground, more especially of swampy ground, where it
sometimes finds water-rats, reptiles,and perhaps, occasionally,
even fish coming within its grasp. Specimens of this species
sometimes attain a length of two feet. A story is told of a
tame one which through an accident lost a leg. Its kindly
disposed owner fashioned for it a makeshift of wood, which,
after modification, was found to answer so well that its
owner was enabled to resume hunting operations, and
having pounced on a rat deftly turned it on its back, pinned:
it down with the wooden leg, and gave the coup de grace
with the talons of the perfect foot!

TE RO— ~

CHAPTER XLIII.

BUZZARDS AND KITES.

From the Latin “Buteo,” coming from I know not what
through the French “Busard,” we. have the English name
Buzzard to characterize a class of birds closely allied to the
eagles on one side, to kites on another, and even, in downy
softness of plumage, perhaps to owls. Into all the delicate
differences which mark off the one from the other, it is not
our intention here toenter. Readers can find them minutely
laid down in books treating of such exact bird lore. Two
species of the genus Buteo are known to China, Buteo Asia-
ticus or Japonicus, which takes the place of B. plumipes, the
rough-legged buzzard of western lands, and B. hemilasius.
The first is a fine big bird reaching anywhere from eighteen
inches to two feet in length, and weighing from two to two
and a half pounds. In colour it is considerably lighter than
most of the raptores already described. Its tints are, as
theirs are, brown and grey lightening to white here and
there, but none of the browns approaches in darkness the
chocolate of the golden eagle and some of the others. The
rough-legs vary, however, very widely both in size and
appearance. None of the buzzards is. gifted with great
rapidity in flight, and in consequence their methods of attack
and the animals on which they feed differ from those of the
sparrow-hawk, the hobby, and the peregrine. The buzzard
is a slow, sluggish, apparently lazy bird, so much so that his
name in olden days was used as a synonym for slowness and
stupidity. But here the owlish softness of the feathers
comes into play, and the buzzard makes up in suddenness of
attack what he Jacks in swiftness. If strong flying grouse,
partridge, or pheasant can laugh at pursuit by such a foe,
it is very different with the low-lying mole, rat, rabbit,
or hare. On them the descent, only from a few feet of
elevation, is fatal. Were the feathers of the buzzard as stiff
and sharply edged as those of the peregrine, he might be
heard approaching, but with the downy-edged covering
which nature has supplied the buzzard, there is no sound,
and the first notice of his approach which the poor
ground-loving mammal receives is the penetrating clutch of
his torturing talons. This particular species is commoner in
south-western China in the cold weather than in the interior

174 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

or in this neighbourhood. He is well known in Japan, and
summers in Siberia. His cousin, B. hemilasius, follows
mainly the same course. An allied species, Archibuteo
strophiatus, is common in the north and west, and seems
to confine its nesting places to high rocks and _ cliffs,
whilst the other buzzards make use of rocks or tall trees
indifferently.

Still another cousin is Pernis apivorus, or P. mellivora,
the bee or honey-eating buzzard. He is inclined to copper
colour in the brown of his back, with a much lighter breast
dotted with dark spots. Hiscereis blueandhis feet are golden.
He cannot, of course, confine himself to such a delicacy as
honeycomb. Indeed it is not so much the honey as the
insects that the bird seems toseek. Failing these it takes to
rats, frogs, small birds, and in confinement has been known
to eat even fish. Insects and their larvae, however, are
believed to be its favourite food, and on these it waxes so fat
that, if shot, oil is said to exude from its wounds. It is the
only member of the raptorial family that I know of that is
capable of running swiftly on the ground. The honey-eater
is not common in China. It comes only as an occasional
visitor apparently. In length it attains about two feet, and
in weight nearly two pounds.

Kites are as common as the honey-buzzard is rare.
Our own familiar friend, Wilvus melanotis, or the black-eared
kite, which comes back to us for the cold weather and
disappears with ducks in the spring, is too well known to
need much description. Unfortunately for our respect for
him, he is of the pariah kind, allied to the vultures, and given
to carrion rather than to the blood-red plunder of the
falcons. He is sometimes well over two feet in length, and
the spread of his wings is not infrequently a good five, so that
it is little wonder that he can soar as he does without apparent
effort, steered here and there by his long and extremely
mobile tail. All the admiration which the falcons and hawks
force from us by their boldness, their swiftness and dash, is
demanded by the kites for their grace on the wing. Wewatch
them circle high in the air over the Settlement at Shanghai,
some half dozen or more at a time following one another
around the ethereal spiral which seems to have no apex,
until their big bulk has dwindled to a dot. Near the ground
and when actually flying, there is nothing particularly
striking in the movement of the kite. Quite the reverse, as
a rule. There is all the lazy flapping of the buzzard, and
none of the rush of the peregrine. I have seen a kite follow
a hen pheasant which I had put up, but this was, so to speak,
more for fun or bravado than anything else. On the other
hand, on two or three occasions a kite has served me well

BUZZARDS AND KITES. 175

as a retriever in finding wounded pheasants that would
otherwise have got away. The old British kite, Milvus
regalis or ictinus, once so common, now so rare, was known
as the gled or glead, from its gliding movement, and was, I
imagine, somewhat more active than the black-eared variety
we have here in the winter. In olden time the kite was a
protected scavenger in the streets of London, as he still is
in many places in India and China. Under suchcircumstances
he becomes as audacigus as the Ceylonese rook or jackdaw,
and will even snatch food out of the very hands of men who
are unwary. Bones and bits of offal are fought for by kites
and pariah dogs, the power of combination amongst the biped
robbers being sometimes too much for the greater strength
and holding power of the canine. A vigorous rear attack,
culminating perhaps in a vicious peck or two from those
terrible beaks, induces the dog to quit his prey for an instant
in order to inflict condign punishment on his tormentors.
But that is exactly what the wily kites desire. Whilst the
attention of the dog is taken by the enemies in the rear, those
in front secure the booty and fly off with it. The kite,
however, does not depend entirely on carrion for existence:
he kills for himself when opportunity offers, his prey being
generally some of the smaller mammals ashore, or fish afloat.
The frequent swoop over the water which we so often see on
the Huangpu may at times mean the capture of surface
feeding fish, though as a rule it is probably nothing more
than the picking up of floating rubbish.

Chil, the kite, whom Kipling so frequently mentions in
his Jungle stories, is Milvus govinda, a smaller cousin to
M. melanotis. Pere David tells us that this species is rare on
the coast, though common in the southern partsofChina. [am
inclined to think that I once saw a specimen sailing about
over the harbour and lower rocks of Liu-kung-tao at
Wei-hai-wei. If Mr. Johnston, having given us so excellent
an account of Chinese lore based on that British possession,
would now devote a little time to the fauna and flora of the
northern districts he would deserve the gratitude of every
lover of natural history. There is certainly a kite there
during the warmer months which, though not altogether
unlike the black-eared, is somewhat smaller and more ruddy
on the back. It may be a mere variety. I cannot say for
certain, as my visits to the island have been short and at
long intervals.

The black-winged kite is by far the handsomest of the
family out here. He, however, belongs to another branch,
and is known classically as Elanus coeruleus from the bluish
tinge of his plumage. He is common in the south of China,
and comes at least as far north as Chekiang to nest amongst

176 WILD TIFE IN CHINA

the hills. He might easily be mistaken when at rest for the
male of the hen harrier, were it not for his smaller size, the’
blue kite being only about a foot in length. But his grey-blue
head, back, and tail recall Cirous Cyaneus male ina moment,
and the resemblance is increased by the white breast and
belly. The iris is a bright scarlet, the cere and feet golden,
so that altogether in appearance, the blue kite is a credit to
his kind. The reason why he is known as the black-winged
is that his wing feathers are considered darker than the tint
of his back, the primary coverts being very nearly, if not
quite, black. Heis said to feed mainly on small birds,
insects and mice. These he hunts down after the manner of
the harrier rather than of the falcon, seizing them on the
ground. Indeed the black-winged kite has not a little in
common with the harrier besides the remarkable resemblance
in colour, for it quarters the ground at times as he does, and
has even been seen to hover for an instant to gain a better
view of the ground below. It will whip insects off the stalks
of plants or the branches of trees, this of course being done
on the wing, but with this exception its prey is taken stand-
ing, mice being probably its principal diet. There is a musky
odour attached to this bird which serves to identify it. Its
egg would seem to mark it off as an intermediary between
Astur and Buteo. It certainly has more of the characteristics,
from outward appearance, of the falcons than of the
true kites.

CHAPTER XLIV.

OWLS.

Imagine an uneducated countryman full to the top-knot
with superstition of every kind, credulous to the last degree,
and capable of an imaginative power given only to such as
have allother mental powers dwarfed and undeveloped; then
on a fairly dark night let him be confronted in a wild-lonely
part of the country, (for choice one under dark trees where
some tragedy has been enacted) with a shadowy figure now
large, now small, in the midst of which glow two balls of
living fire, and from which issue hissings, or screeches,
hoots, or maniac laughter as the case may be. There is
nothing to be seen distinctly, only a swelling, rustling some-
thing, with the glaring eyes and the unearthly noises. What
happens, if this is a first experience? We know well enough.
The countryman turns tail and flies as he never flew before,
until the friendly shelter of a cottage door has safely closed
behind him. Yet there was nothing more terrible in the
dreadful apparition than an owl standing on the defensive,
her young probably close at hand. There is the psychological
fact, however, and we must make the best of it. It remains
a legacy from the past, and it is to be feared one to be passed
on to many coming generations, a legacy from parents,
nurses, priests, and the superstitious generally who have
filled, and will continue to fill, youthful minds with foolish
fancies and old world beliefs. The country people amongst
whom I was born and brought up were full of folk lore
concerning owls and other hobgoblins of the night. Fortun-
ately for me curiosity was stronger than dread. The desire
to know overcame the fear of the unknown. Ican remember
a time when owls were a source of imaginative terror, but
before nine summers had gone by, this was all gone for the
simple reason that to imagination pure and simple there had
succeeded knowledge. The owl had become a well known
friend, and was no longer a bogy, spook, or other uncanny
imp to make one’s blood run cold, or one’s hair stand on end.
At the ripe age of ten I was an utter skeptic with regard’
to all such things, and..could lie abed and hear the
“Crake-crake” of the landrail, or the call of the owls from
over the stables, with pleasure in place of dread. “Baint
you afeard?”” was a by no means infrequent question from

178 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

ny

country women and even boys. What was there to be
“afeard” of when one knew with perfect certainty that all the
suppositious horrors came from birds? So the owls and I
were friends at a very early age. I remember one startling
me a little once. He passed from behind so close as almost
to brush my cheek with his wings. Not a sound was heard,
of course, for the passage of an owl and even the beats of
his wings are absolutely noiseless. A moment after he curved
up a littlein his fight and then dropped like a stone almost—
just as one sees a harrier do sometimes in the daylight—on to
the hedge-bank at the side of the lane to emerge with
something in his claw, a mouse or rat probably.

My early friends were specimens of the white or barn
owl so well known all over western lands, Strix fammea of
the scientists, a species which I have never seen in China, but
which is, I believe, represented by a relative, Strix candida,
well known in Formosa and Japan where it finds shelter,
food, and home amongst long grass and reeds. I have
referred to the superstitions respecting owls believed in by
people of the West because the same phenomenon is found
here in China, and if possible in an exaggerated form. The
Chinese are even more given to belief in the absurdities of
the past than Western people are, and it must be confessed
that—when exact knowledge is lacking—there are ample
grounds for fright, and plenty of apprehensions on which to
base alarm, to scare people out of their wits, and make
their very flesh creep, where owls are concerned. Oune
ignotum pro magnifico. Sight and hearing both combine to
aid in the “proofs” of a petrifying fearfulness which might
otherwise be denied. One of the most dreaded of the causes
of some of these hair-raising nocturnal alarms is one of the
prettiest little species contained in the owl family—Athene
Whiteleyi. Every sportsman knows him almost as well as
he knows the local dove or blackbird. He isto be found in
every second or third clump of bamboos near to villages, and
here he may be watched by one who likes to approach warily
during the day. Whiteley’s owlet, as he is called, sits all
bunched up during the sunlight, generally in the thickest part
of the bamboo branches but sometimes out in clear sight on
the branch of a tree. He looks, as he is, about the size of a
man’s closed fist with a fairly thick glove on. His colours
are of the usual owl kind which range from the darkest of
chocolate through all shades of browns and tawnies to grey
and white. A tiny mite to be the object of so much dread!
The “‘cat-headed-hawk,” mao-deu-ving, is its colloquial
village name near Shanghai, changing up north to “muo-erh-
tou,’ the catheaded. One might shoot dozens on a trip of a
fortnight or so, for not only will the short-sighted quarry

OWLS. ” 179

allow a close approach but its flight when flushed is by no
means swift. A. Whiteleyi has a cousin which takes its
place in North China and Manchuria. This is A. Plumipes,
whose legs and feet are covered with down.

Altogether there are no fewer than 19 species of owls
known to visit or live in the Chinese Empire. A third Athene
isfound inthe mountainous parts of Formosa, which geograph-
ically, though no longer politically, we may still be permitted
to name in connexion with China. Strix coromanda, or
Urrua coromanda has been seen near Shanghai, and one
specimen captured, a young bird in imperfect plumage.
Strix Hardwickii or Ketupa Ceylonensis comes as far east
as Hongkong, where it is known as an eater of crustacean
and fish food. Many of the rest are little if at all known
so far north as this, but are more or less common farther
south and in the districts bordering on Burma and Tibet.

The two species of the genus Otus known in China
deserve a little fuller notice. These are two of the so-called
eared or horned owls, a name which they ge; from the
possession of feather tufts springing from the vicinity of
the ears, and more or less erectile at will. Ofus vulgatis, or
Strix otus is the long-eared owl. He is a fine handsome
bird. His dense black pupil is surrounded by an iris of
glowing yellow, and this again by a fringe of bla ck-streaked
brown feathers forming the centre of the characteristic
circular disk of feathers round every owl’s eye, the outer
portion of the disk being much lighter in tint. I mmediately
over his eyes there rise the “horns” of tawny feathers
streaked with black. Between the edges of the disks peeps out
the point of a business-like short beak. The remaining parts of
the body are coloured with the same tints but their mixture
and mottling are such as Nature’s needs alone could have
produced. There is a tinge of blue on the upper surface of
the middle tail feathers. Now and then the long-eared owl
will come out to feed during the day, as some others of his
kind will do. Then he has to run the gauntlet of all the
little birds in the neighbourhood, whom many a time IJ have
seen and heard on such occasions exercising all the bird
Billingsgate they could lay their tongues to. Otus vulgaris
is big enough to be an enemy to rabbits and young hares,
besides rats, mice, voles, and small birds. Like his smaller
friends, too, he varies his diet with a course or two of insect
food. The female is sometimes 16 inches in length, her mate
something less. None of the owls, so far as I know, ever
disgrace themselves by eating carrion. They invariably kill
their own food, and this makes them so very useful to
farmers, since they destroy vast numbers of rats, mice, and
voles which would otherwise do immense damage. Where,

180 WILD LIFE IN CHINA

owing to the mistaken enmity of keepers, they have been
killed out, farms are sure to suffer. Where, on the contrary,
there may be a sudden invasion of rodents, such as that of
voles in Scotland not many years since, there will also—if
permitted—be a corresponding invasion of owl to feed on
them. Thelong-eared ow! is known pretty nearly all over
Europe and Asia, being sedentary in some places, in others
migratory. It nests in trees, not infrequently occupying an
old crow’s nest in which to deposit its four or five round
white eggs. Unlike most of the owl family the long-eared
species is inclined to be sociable, during the winter especially,
when in some countries little companies of a dozen or more
may be seen together.

The short-eared owl is variously known as Strix
brachyotus, Otus brachyotus, Brachyotus palustris, etc. It is
about the same size as its long-eared relative, and much the
same colour, though the tints are generally lighter. “Brachy”
it might be noted, means short, and “otus,’ or “ous,” an
ear. This species also is sociable. It is migratory in England,
where it spends the winter only, except in perhaps a few
cases which nest in the northern counties. The short-eared
owl is much more of a day bird, and may be seen hunting
over fields and moors harrier fashion for food. Occasionally,
it seems, it takes to rabbit burrows after the fashion of the
burrowing species so well known in North America. Indeed
it cares but little for trees, and prefers a life in close
proximity to mother earth. Except for the robbery of an
occasional game bird, partridge or grouse, the short-eared
owl is a feeder on rodents and small wild birds. “‘There is
no better friend to the farmer,” is the verdict of a naturalist
who knew. Ina field which was known to be swarming
with vermin, no fewer than 28 owls were once counted at
one time. The nest of this species, like that of some others,
is usually found on the ground hidden amongst grass, rushes,
fern, or heather.

The owl family, with their big staring eyes both directed
forward instead of sideways, as those of so many other birds
are, with their fourth reversible toe, and their short stout
beak, form an undoubted link between the parrots on one
side and the hawks, falcons, and eagles on the other. They
provide another example of that universal evolution which
has ever been round us, but to which we were, and not
infrequently are still, too often blind. The old teaching
respecting special creations has had more lives than a cat,
and still flourishes in certain quarters.

CHAPTER XLV.

OWLS—(Concluded.)

Mention, in the last chapter, of the relationship of owls
with parrots reminds me that the Psittacides, to which family
the parrots belong, have not even been referred to in the
chats already published. There was, of course,a reason. In
the first place China is not well represented in the parrot
family. David enumerates but six species, all of which are
of the smaller varieties, parroquets, etc. In the second place
they are all confined to the warm south and are never seen
in most of the Chinese provinces, and in the third, it is with
regret that I have to confess to an utter ignorance of the
whole tribe in the wild state. The connexion between the
two families, owls and parrots, is however very closely seen
still in New Zealand, where there is an owl-parrot whose
whole life is spent on the ground, the wings through long
disuse being almost useless. It is known from its cry as the
“kakapo,” and is a vegetable feeder. Therein it differs from
the degenerate kea, also of New Zealand, which has abandoned
its plant diet for an almost exclusive one of flesh. How this
evolution has been reached is not exactly known, as there are
various theories respecting it. There is no theory, unfort-
unately, but the most painful certainty, as to the manner in
which it now seeks and obtains one of its pet luxuries—the
fat on sheeps’ kidneys. It alights on the back of its victim,
and by means of its formidable beak proceeds to tear through
the flesh until the delicacy is exposed. That eaten, the bird
appears to be satisfied, and of course the sheep dies. Repeti-
tion of this practice makes the kea’s depraved taste something
of first consequence to the New Zealand rancher, and natur-
ally the war is bitter.

Having made acquaintance with owls and parrots with
interchangeable appetities from grass through flesh to fish
and frogs, we may, with.due apologies for the digression,
continue the record ofthe remaining owls of China which
deserve separate notice. There are one or two’ represent-
atives of the genus Scops, but they call for no detailed descrip-
tion. There is also a representative of the Surnia class, one
of which, S. Passerina, is a pretty little thing about the size of a
quail, and with something of its colouring. Its food consists
mainly of insects and mice.

182 WILD LIFE IN CHINA

Contrast this with. the giant of the family—the great
Eagle Owl, from twenty to twenty-eight inches in length and,
to outward appearance, more than bulky in proportion.
Strix bubo, or Bubo maximus is indeed a magnificent bird,
and one can well imagine from an examination of specimens
in the museum that there may be some truth in the belief
held by many people that he is quite a match for the king of
birds himself, the golden eagle. His beak is terrible: his
talons even more so; the fact that the legs, and even the
toes, are thickly feathered adding to their apparent massive
strength. The horns of the eagle owl spread out horizontally,
and are of firmer as well as longer structure than those of
the “eared” owls before mentioned. The pupil of the eye is
surrounded with a reddish orange iris, the blaze of which to
victims seized in the dark must be particularly terrible. For
the rest, the plumage is of the ordinary owl kind, brown,
grey, tawny and chocolate being mingled with all the
usual charm.

The bird is one of very wide range, being found in
varieties or identical species in Europe, Asia, Africa, and
America. It is common in most parts of China, though the
only live specimen which I have seen in this particular
neighbourhood was one which lived in captivity, the property
of a friend of mine who was naturally very proud of it. This
bird escaped one night, and was heard on the roof ofa
friend’s house, where the children were scared nearly out of
their wits at the unwonted visitation. It is specially plentiful
about the beginning of winter when probably moving into its
winter quarters. There are many instances of its domestic-
ation. Indeed owls as a class are by no means hard to tame,
and are sometimes found useful in the destruction of rats
and mice. When caught young or taken from the nest, the
young birds continue to have the full support of their parents
if left in a cage or hen-coop to which the old birds have
access, the food brought, it has been noticed, being very
frequently young game birds, partridges, pheasants, etc.

The strength of the eagle owl is such that no game smaller
than deer are secure from his attacks, and even young
fawns are sometimes killed, hares, pheasants, and others of
the larger game birds being amongst the most frequent
victims, though like many other birds of its kind, its larder
is frequently replenished from less lordly sources, crows,
rooks, snakes, lizards, frogs, and even fish and insects being
drawn on to meet the demands of a very healthy appetite. The
smaller of these disappear holus-bolus, the larger are torn
easily into assimilable pieces by the powerful beak.

The cry of the eagle owl varies with the occasion. It
has been likened to the bark of a small dog. At other times

OWLS. 183

it is a hoot, the syllables used to represent it changing with
the keenness of the listener’s ear. We thus have “hoo-hoo”
from one naturalist, “boo-boo” from another, and “poo-hoo”
from a third. But that is not all, the bark and the hooing
may be varied by a screech, especially from the female and
during the breeding season, whilst, brought to close quarters,
either male or female.is possessed of avery vicious hiss, and
a suggestive snapping of the beak which is of a particularly
warning nature. The note of the young birds varies between
a hissing and a piping tone. Two or three form the broods,
and they are hatched, in common with those of the young of
the whole family, from white rounded eggs. The nesting
place varies according to circumstances. Either rocks or
trees may be selected, or old ruins, and even occasionally,
as though to emphasize the connexion between these and the
burrowing owls, a hollow in the ground. Usually the same
site is kept to year after year, if the birds are left undisturbed;
and the nest is large, composed of branches, sticks, twigs, etc.
lined with leaves, moss, or other soft material.

The male of the eagle owl weighs about seven pounds,
twice the weight of an ordinary well-fed cock-pheasant. To
carry so heavy a body and also the weight of its prey, which
may easily double its own, the wings are very large and
powerful, expanding to a length of something over five feet.
The female is sometimes as much as a pound more in weight
than her lord and master—if such a term is applicable
among the raptores, which is much to be doubted. She is
somewhat longer, also, and has darker tints. The young are
quite white at first.

There is a Central Asian variety of Bubo maximus,
which is known as B. Turcomanus. I am unable to say with
certainty whether our eastern representative belongs to the
European or to the Central Asian variety, or whether both
are represented. The chief difference seems to be that the
latter is somewhat paler in colour. Colour, however, depends
so much on climatic conditions allied to special states of
environment that it counts for little in determining species.
The same bird takes on quite a different appearance when
removed to widely different conditions, and experiments have
proved that colouring can be changed almost at will if suitable
means are at hand.

Barry Sullivan’s well known song will serve as a fitting
close to these notes. I quote two verses:

In the hollow tree, in the old grey tower
The spectral ow! doth dwell:

Dull, hated, despised in the sunshine hour,
But at dusk he’s abroad and well!

184 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

Not a bird of the forest e’er mates with him.
All mock him outright by day:
But at night, when the woods grow still and dim,
The boldest will shrink away.
Oh, when the night falls, and roosts the fowl,
Then, then is the reign of the hornéd owl.

Mourn not for the owl, nor his gloomy plight!
The owl, hath his share of good.
If a prisoner he be in the broad daylight,
He is lord in the dark greenwood.
Nor lonely the bird, nor his ghostly mate:
They are each unto each a pride:
Thrice fonder, perhaps, since a strange dark fate
Hath rent them from all beside.
So when the night falls and dogs do howl,
Sing ho! for the reign of the hornéd owl!
We know not alway
Who are kings by day,
But the king of the night is the bold, brown owl!

Since these chats began we have followed our feathered
friends through the course of a revolving year. \We began
with the migrants going north. These have now come back
once more, and during the period of their absence we have
had the pleasure of seeing those which love the sun and bask
in its warmth. They too have gone—fora while. The trees
are bare; the woods are silent. Only the bulbul and the
myna just now enliven us with their chatter or their warble
as the case may be, for as the Chinese poet says,
The sedge is withered from the lake,
And no bird sings.

Yet the days are lengthening. Spring is promised once
again, and then—da capo!

CHAPTER XLVI.

CHINESE FIELD SPORTS.

As a link connecting the chapters on birds with those
on mammals and other wild animals, some account of the
sporting practices of the Chinese, amongst whom may be
included Mongols, Manchus, etc., will be of interest. In
up-country trips from Shanghai we see little if anything of
this sort. Possibly the doctrine of the sacredness of life,
so strenuously held by the devout Buddhist, may have
something to do with the scarcity of Chinese sportsmen, but
the probrbility is that more material reasons have greater
weight. No ordinary country farmer can afford to purchase
a gun for himself or his son, and if he could, cartridges at
the rate of six cents each or, as he would count them, at
sixty cash, would be such a constant reminder of the drain
on his exchequer, that the weapon would soon disappear.
“Bang went saxpence,” the thrifty Scotsman’s complaint
respecting his expenses before he had been twenty-four
hours in London, would provide a very inadequate laconism
for his Chinese counterpart. Hence it is that the parties of
country sportsmen met with are few and far between. It
accasionally happens that a man here and there gets the
use of a gingal for a day or so and then, with a few charges
of powder and anything suitable as substitutes for shot, he
will sally forth, perhaps accompanied by half a dozen village
admirers and as many “wonks,” in the hope of more execu-
tion than the upshot is likely to record. On these occasions,
judging from my own experience of what I have seen, the
methods employed are far too noisy and ill-conducted to
secure game even if the marksman had western weapons
and knew how to shoot. The more the shouting and com-
motion the more the game expected. Reeds are violently
beaten and dogs sent into covers in such a manner as
effectually to scare any bird or beast away from, rather than
towards, the gunner.

Very different is the method of the man who knows—
the professional shot who either from sheer love of the
chase, or for the living to be got from the disposal of
the game secured, spends his days in scouring the country-
side for whatever in the form of edible life may come

186 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

within reach of his weapon, and so be transferred to
his bag if he is entirely afoot, or to the little “hold” of
his tiny punt if he have one. That depends on the nature
of the country he is in. I have sometimes allowed fancy
to place this type of man somewhat apart from the
ordinary countryman. At times he looks as if his pedigree
would, if one could only trace it, show him to be of different
stock. It would be a most interesting thing if somebody,
well versed in the language, well acquainted with wild life,
and equally keen in sport, could make a study of the life
history of the professional purveyor of Chinese game. It
would not surprise me in the least if it were discovered that
in many instances these men have a strain of aboriginal
blood inthem. There is quite an un-Chinese cast of counten-
ance to be seen amongst them at times, and their wiry frames,
hard as nails and tireless as those of wolves, suggest some-
thing different even from the villager. The eyes are keen,
the aspect alert, and the impression conveyed to the observer
is something different from that of the stereotyped character
of the ordinary rustic. The nearest western type I can think
of is a gipsy given to poaching in a quiet sort of way.
Moreover, this man can shoot. It is a never-ending
source of wonder how he does it—but he does. His weapon
is an iron barrel, with no pretensions to finish, fitted to a
moderately thick, roughly cut stock bent something like the
handle of a walking stick, or a block-letter L. It varies in
length, but I do not remember seeing any less than about
six feet. Asa rule there is no nipple, and breech-loading is,
of course, a thing unknown. Consequently there must be
the old-fashioned “pan” for powder outside the “touch”
hole. This is let off by means of a slow burning match of
vegetable fibre attached to the stock. Army gingals some-
times attain a length of fourteen feet, and need three men
for their manipulation. Some of them have been modernized,
with nipples, and even breech-loading attachments in some
cases. But, of course, the sporting gingal is a one man
weapon, muzzle-loading, and fired either from a rest on
the ground, or from the hip standing. An old friend of
mine, a keen sportsman, and a fair shot, now alas gone over
to the majority, used to delight in telling his experiences
with native sportsmen whom he had met during his many
up-country excursions. Sometimes when both foreigner and
native were in the humour, they would work together, the
foreigner keen to see the methods employed by his native
companion, the latter full of admiration for the finich, the
handiness, and the easy manipulation of the foreign weapon.
When results came to be compared, however, my friend said
that the gingal quite held its own, even if it did not emerge

CHINESE FIELD SPORTS. 187

a winner. On several occasions he had “his eye wiped” by
his antediluvian companion. The native is never tired of
watching the working of really good foreign dogs. He usually
has a canine companion of his own, but there does not seem
to have ever been the same amount of teaching devoted to
him as there has to the British spaniel, setter, pointer or
retriever, never enough, that is to say, to be passed on
from generation to generation. But, as we shall see, the
native dog is capable of a training suited to the circumstances,
and I have myself seen them work thick cover very thoroughly.
There seems to be no special breed used. Sometimes it is
one of the purely native varieties, sometimes, in these days,
a cross between native and foreign. The last of the kind
which I have seen was a brindled dog showing evident traces
of the bull terrier in his build. He belonged to a sport who
was accompanied by a small boy, the pair travelling along
the creeks in a tiny punt in the bottom of which there were
a teal and a hen pheasant. A moment after I met them, the
dog put out of an almost bare grave-mound, which I had just
passed, a woodcock which got right into the middle of the
gingal discharge and was killed in very sportsman-like style.
The use of the boat gives the hunter in delta lands an
immense advantage over the foreign shot who has to “go
round” perhaps a mile or more to a bridge every half hour
or so. What these market purveyors get for their bag I
have never been able to find out exactly, but it may be taken
for granted that the the prices of the Shanghai market, with
its fifty, sixty, seventy cents each for hares, pheasants, and
woodcocks respectively, are not for them.

Into other Chinese methods of shooting and trapping
game, it is not the intention here to enter. The reader will
find first hand information respecting this most interesting
topic in Mr. Wade’s new edition of “With Boat and Gun in
the Yangtze Valley,” where it will also be seen that native
sportsmen’s attention is not confined to feathered game, but is
given equally to other wild life, including the highly dangerous,
but better paying quarry, the royal tiger himself, of whom
more anon. There is, however, a recent experience of Mr.
Wade’s which, with his permission, I wish to rescue from the
pages of “The North China Daily News” where comparatively
fewwillseeitagain. Itdeals witha phase in native dog-training
and gingal work which is apparently new to everybody. In
the graphic words of the writer, the story runs thus:—

“The third incident we witnessed occurred: at the well
known Shapa, or lower barrier. A native shooter had his
gingal with him—a most uncanny looking weapon. That
there should be no question as to its length, it was placed
upright alongside myself, and towered above my head two feet

188 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

two inches (measured), which would make the piece of
ordnance over eight feet in length. It weighed 18 catties.
We foreigners sometimes growl at the 64 to 73 lb. guns usually
weigh. Fancy having to carry a twenty-four pounder, which
was what this man did all day long and every day in the week!
He was accompanied by a small weird-looking animal, a most
unpresentable little wonk, on whom he laid great store.
Curiosity impelled us to take a look at man and dog atwork,and
what we saw made such an impression upon us that we thought
some little record of it might interest others. To cut a
long story short this is briefly what we saw. A hen pheasant
happened to drop into a furrowed field at feeding time.
We saw her distinctly running up and down in search of
food. The native took her bearings, crept up as closely as he
safely could, deposited his gun on a bit of higher ground,
and kept it trained onthe bird. Meantime, the dog lay down
across the barrel of the gun as a screen for his master.
The psychological moment arrived, the gun was fired, the
bird was killed upon the ground, and the dog remained
upon the barrel until his master took the gun up to reload it.
Now this doubtless reads very much like romance, but it is
a fact that can be attested by three eye-witnesses.”’

We must leave to asucceeding chapter some account of
other aspects of Chinese field sports, including Tartar and
Chinese falconry, which dates from very early times indeed,
and is still in vogue, though, of course, in parts of the Empire
where the multitudinous creek, so common in the deltas of
the Si Kiang, the Yangtze, and the Yellow Rivers, are
unknown. The great plains of the north are the natural
home of such sport, and it is there that we shall find it in all
its charm and vivacity.

CHAPTER XLVII.

CHINESE FIELD SPORTS.—( Continued.)

We have again and again had occasion to remark on
the immensity of the Chinese Empire and the fact that since
it covers areas visited by Arctic cold and torrid heat it
could hardly fail to be the home of widely differing species
of beasts and birds. This is no less true from a hunting
than from a scientific point of view. Beasts of the chase
are almost as diversified as we have seen the birds to be
‘but, unfortunately, the mammals, as a whole, have not as
yet found either a Swinhoe, a David, or a Styan to devote
himself and his scientific qualifications to them and to them
alone. There is ample space for some enthusiast to make
aname for all time by filling the gap thus indicated. The
same remark applies to the reptiles of the Empire, and per-
haps less so to the insects, which have, however, found in
Mr. Donovan a delineator of great ability.

References in old accounts of hunting in China show
how rich the field is. One of the most interesting of these
we proceed to quote from Rankin’s “Historical Researches,”
as given in an “Encyclopedia of Rural Sports” published in
the “fifties.” “The Chinese Emperor Kamhi” (sic), says the
story, “gave a hunting entertainment in his park near Peking
to the Russian ambassador. After hunting till nearly four,
we came to the top of an artificial hill, where were tents for
the Imperial family; after dinner, the Emperor sent to the
ambassador to inform him that three tigers would be baited
for his amusement; preparations being first made to secure
the principal spectators from danger by ranks of guards
armed with spears. The first tiger was let out of his cage
by a man on a fleet horse, who opened the door by means of
a rope, and then rode off. The tiger came out, rolled on the
grass, then growled, and walked about. The Emperor fired
bullets with his matchlock, but was too distant: he then
sent the Russian ambassador to try his gun, who advan-
cing within ten paces, shot the tiger dead. The second
tiger was then let out, and rolled on the grass like the
first. A man, to rouse him to action, shot at him with a
blunt arrow. He pursued the man, who narrowly escaped
by the fleetness of his horse, and the tiger attempted

190 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

to leap over the ranks of the guards but was killed’
by them. The third, when loose, at once made towards the
Emperor’s tents, and was quickly despatched with the
soldiers’ spears. This Emperor used to hunt tigers in their:
native woods in his youth, but being now sixty, he refrained
from pursuing them beyond this immense forest, which is.
enclosed for many miles extent with a high wall of brick. It
contains, besides tigers, leopards, lynxes, boars, deer, hares, .
partridges, quails, and pheasants. The Emperor was
surrounded by his sporting establishment, and close to him
was the master of the chase with greyhounds. The grand
falconer was also present with his hawks, many of which
were as white as doves, with only one or two black feathers.
in their wings or tails; these came from Siberia. They
generally raked the pheasants flying: but if the pheasants.
escaped to the reeds or bushes, they nevertheless soon
caught them.”

This graphic picture serves to show that in sport, as in
so many other things, human nature is human nature:
wherever found. The sports just described have for gener-
ations had their counterpart in royal circles in Europe.
The German princes of the past vied with each other in offer-.-
ing to distinguished guests just such entertainment as was.
thought fitting by Kanghi. They had no tigers or leopards,.
unless some could be specially imported for the occasion,
but lynxes, bears, and boars there were in plenty, and in the
current issue of “Country Life” there may be seen repro-.
ductions of old pictures showing especially how herds of
deer were enclosed within a circular fence round which they
rushed, the Coburg sportsmen standing in the centre and
showing their skill by bringing down their helpless game..
We should hardly consider it the highest form of sport in
these days.

But one reference in Rankin’s citation shows that the
hardy Manchu was no feather-bed sportsman: the Emperor-
had been used “to hunt tigers in their native woods in his.
youth.” There is no need to consider this as a mere piece
of court flattery. It is quite likely to be literally true, for-
the Manchu before his degenerate days began, before
luxury of every kind and the sapping of virility in the
harem had made him a byword for flabby obesity, before
in short his military qualities had been undermined by
luxurious ease and plenty, was a man of the truest
physical kind, upstanding, strong, and bold. He was aman
of the plains and hardly less so, when occasion required, of
the mountains. He combined almost equally the qualities.
of both, for whilst in his native haunts there were illimitable
distances over which he could scamper on his sturdy ponies,

CHINESE FIELD SPORTS. 191

the ancestors of those noble little beasts which do such
wonders in Shanghai paper hunts, he had in other portions
of his territory to be not less effective asa climber. Northern
Manchuria is a Manchu Switzerland, It is true it has no
peaks equal to Mt. Blanc, but it has mountains of quite .re-
spectable height, and is provided with wooded cover of vast
extent. The traveller along the Vladivostok-Harbin section
of the Siberian line is delighted with the ever changing vista
of hill scenery presented as the road winds its way round
the foot or along the slopes of these hills. It was here,
doubtless, that much of the marvellous Manchu archery
which was destined to be one of the main causes of the
overthrow of the Chinese armies, had its birth. Hunting
would alternate with war, and both combined would natur-
ally provide just the type of hardy, fearless, well-trained,
skilful soldier who would think nothing of meeting the com-
paratively effeminate Chinese in a disproportion of ten to
one. There is no question but that at his best the Manchu
must have been a fine fellow, as indeed some have been
‘within our own recollection. San-ko-lin-sin, the Manchu
general, was one. He was beloved of the British “Tommy”
in 1860 because it was firmly believed that he was no Man-
chu at all, but a Sam Collinson who, as a renegade, had by
his innate qualities risen to be Commander in Chief of the
Huangti’s troops. Jung Lu was another still of our own
times. His attitude during the Boxer madness was just the
attitude that we ‘should have expected a Roberts or a
Kitchener to have adopted under like circumstances.

But Manchu sport is not the only type of sport known
within the wide range of the Celestial Empire. We have seen
how the native markets are supplied with game. We might
extend this portion of our enquiry to include the capture of
waterfowl, but we have already referred the reader to “With
Boat and Gun” for information under this head. There
is, however, not a little wild hunting amongst the slopes
on the roof of the world, in Tibet. If favoured by ordinary
good luck the sportsman may come across troops of the wild
horse or ass, Equus hemionus, made famous by Pallas.
This animal is about the build of a moderate-size pony,
and may be considered a link between the horse and the ass,
the tail being more nearly like that of the latter. “Kyang”
as they are called have been found in troops of from twenty
to a hundred. Mountain sheep and goats, ibex, bears, wolves,
foxes, etc. are found amongst the lofty solitudes of the
northern slopes of the mighty Himalayas. In Lord Ronald-
shay’s “Sport and Politics under an Eastern Sky,” we find
illustrations of heads of the Nyan, a mountain sheep with fine
curving horns, the Goa, or Tibetan gazelle with a pair of

192 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

daintily curved goat-like horns, the Napoo or Burhel, with
horns that spread out before they recurve; also one of the
Tibetan antelope with a head reminding one of some of those
African antelopes, forming a beautiful curving V over the head
of the bearer. We learn, moreover, that there are still to be
found herds of wild yak, amongst which at times there are
immense bulls. The Tibetan sportsman is another modern
survival of the ancient Mongol race when at its best. Heis
essentially a man of the mountains, accustomed to breathe
a rarified atmosphere at or below zero. His sight is equal
to that of the wild Indian or the South African hunter. He
is all muscle, what there is of him, except such parts as are
composed of fine strong bone. Not an ounce of superfluous
flesh is to be found on him. Indeed it would probably be
impossible to find adipose tissue anywhere in Tibet, except
perhaps within the holy precincts of the richest lamaseries.
One does not generally turn to Blue-books for details
of sport, but there is so little that is authentic known of the
inner life of Tibet that I have been glad to ransack the Blue-
book dealing with Tibetan matters which was published in -
1904. Therein, in the diary kept by Capt. W. F. O’Connor,
who was on duty with the Younghusband mission, we find
several references to wild life, and to game shot by natural-
ists and others. Amongst the animals mentioned are the
wolf, the lynx, the Goa, above referred to, burhel, the kyang,
or wild -ass, the Ovis ammon, a magnificent wild sheep,
hares, partridges, lammergeier Brahmini ducks, etc. To
some of these it will be necessary to return in later chap-
ters, as also to the whole subjéct of falconry to which in
times gone by the Mongol races devoted much attention

ie hearsay ~2

CHAPTER XLVIII.

CHINESE FIELD SPORTS.—(Concluded.)

One naturally turns to Marco Polo to see if that romantic
old observer has anything to say respecting Wild Life in
China, and the reference is not without result. There is a
passing notice, en route, to falcons in Persia. ‘“‘They are
smaller than the peregrine falcon: reddish about the breast,
belly, and under the tail: and their flight is so swift that no
bird can escape them.” At Changa-nor, which sounds
Tibetan, he finds cranes, pheasants, partridges, and other
birds, with gerfalcons and hawks in use for sports. Speaking
of the Grand Khan’s hunting establishment, that of Kublai,
he tells how boars, stags, fallow deer, roebucks, and bears
were killed by being surrounded by a large circle of hunters
who gradually converged. Dogs and arrows were then used.
Leopards and lynxes were kept for the chase, “also many
lions which are larger than the Babylonian lions.” “Itis an
admirable sight, when the lion is let loose in pursuit of an
animal, to observe the savage eagerness and speed with which
he overtakes it.” In all probability the word “lion” has been
wrongly used in this connexion, the animal employed being
probably a hunting leopard or acheetah. “His Majesty has
eagles also, which are trained to stoop at wolves, and such
is their strength that none, however large, can escape from
their talons.” (Chap XIV, Travels of Marco Polo.)

Another old, but more recent authority, is the interesting
folio volume of travels and descriptions of China published
in 1671 by the East India Company, a copy of which has very
kindly been lent to me by Mr. Browett. In the section dealing
with wild life there, we find that the province of Huquang
was reputed to be noted for its deer, that there were wolves in
Shantung, bears in Shensi, with wild bulls, leopards, etc.
amongst the hills. Szechwan boasted a kind of rhinoceros,
whilst “Elephants which are seen in most parts of China,
are all brought out of the provinces of Yunnan and Quangsi,
where they breed in great numbers, the inhabitants making
use of them in time of war.” (This, with some other naive
statements may be taken with the customary grain of salt.)
Chekiang was a province full of tigers, some of which, on
Mt. Ku-tien, “do no hurt to men,” and even wild ones brought

194 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

there immediately become tame! Tigers and leopards are
also mentioned as common in Yunnan and Quangsi. Boars
with tusks a foot and a half long tear men to.pieces. There
were baboons in Szechwan. The musk deer was well known.
I have met with no mention of falconry in this interest-
ing volume. The birds which most occupied the attention
of the compilers seem to have been those of a fabulous
nature, but the cormorant, owing to its use in fishing, greatly
interested everybody. We have to hark back to Marco Polo
for early descriptions of Chinese falconry. In his fifteenth
chapter he tells us that the Court was furnished daily with
“a thousand pieces of game, quails excepted.” To aid in the
capture of this immense quantity no fewer than 5,000 hunting
dogs were employed? When a grand hunting excursion was
made into the northern wilds, the Grand Khan was attended
“by full ten thousand falconers, who carry with them a vast
number of gerfalcons, peregrine falcons, and sakers, as well
as many vultures (?), in order to pursue the game along the
bank of the river.” (It is thought this means the Sungari
or the Ussuri.) Bands of from 200 or more hunters wandered
separately in these excursions. “Every bird belonging to
His Majesty, or to any of his nobles, has a small silver label
fastened to its leg, on which is engraved the name of the
keeper.” His Majesty the Khan seems to have carried hunt-
‘ing luxury to a height unknown even in India. Not satisfied
with one elephant to carry him, which, however, he was com-
pelled to use in the narrow passes of the Manchurian hills,
he more often had two or four on the backs of which there
was placed a platform sheltered by a canopy which could be
thrown back when cranes appeared in the sky and the falcons
were flown at them. Storks, swans, herons, and a variety
of other birds were taken, “the excellence and the extent of
the sport being greater than it is possible to express.” It is
curious to find laws relating to the keeping of hawks, etc.
common to China and the West. The old Venetian tells us,
“It is strictly forbidden to every tradesman, mechanic, or
husbandman throughout His Majesty’s dominions, to keep
a vulture, hawk, or any other bird used for the pursuit of
game, or any sporting dog: nor is a nobleman or cavalier
to presume without permission to chase beast or bird in
the neighbourhood of the place where His Majesty takes
up his residence.” In England no priest might fly anything
more noble than a sparrow-hawk. Neither prince, nobleman,
nor peasant might kill game of any kind between March and
October, a law which China might once more, with great
profit, replace on the list of actively enforced statutes.
Whether falconry travelled westwards from China, or
whether it was the spontaneous suggestion of nature to many

CHINESE FIELD SPORTS. 195

‘minds in many climes about the same time can never be
known. It is certain, however, that all countries of the past
‘have fallen victims to its charms, and that in many it has
never died out. It is still a pastime in India and Persia; it
is being widely revived in England, and is one of the com-
monest of outdoor sports amongst the Chinese, Manchus,
and Mongols generally. In the west, ladies took part in it.
‘Scott in “The Lay of the Last Minstrel” tells how—

The ladye by the altar stood,

Of sable velvet her array,

And on her head a crimson hood,

With pearls embroidered and entwined,

Guarded with gold, with ermine lined.

A merlin sat upon her wrist,

Held by a leash of silken twist.

It may be noted that whilst there is no doubt that the
‘Chinese have used, and do use, eagles in the chase, the same
birds have never, so far as I know, been so employed in
England. One objection was their weight. A sporting
abbess of olden days says they were not to be “enlured nor
reclaimed, because they be too ponderous to the perch port-
atif,” that is to say they were too heavy to be carried on the
wrist. Possibly the Mongols got over the difficulty by
carrying them-on horseback till wanted, as a hunting leopard
is Sometimes carried.

The following list of technical terms used in the nomen-
.clature of falconry will be interesting :—

Of long-winged hawks, etc., there are —

The gerfalcon, of which the male is called the jerkin.

» falcon, 4 is tierce gentle.

» lanner, _ a lanneret.

» bockerel, 5 ss bockeret.

» saker, 4 s sackerel.

>» merlin, 5 _ jack-merlin.
hobby, 3 Pe jack or robin.

Of short-winged hawks, etc., there are—
The eagle, of which the male is called the iron.

» goshawk 5 ‘i tiercel.
» sparrow-hawk 4 és musket.
» kestrel re a jack-kestrel.

Over and above these, technical falconry is replete with
‘terms to designate hawks in the various stages of their
growth and training. The criterion of stupidity in some of
the southern countries to this day is inability to distinguish
between “a hawk and a hand-saw,” where the latter term is,
of course, a modern corruption of “hernshaw”, an old sporting
name for the heron.

196 WILD LIFE IN CHINA

But our topic is China, not England, and we turn once
more to that. In Swinhoe’s ornithological notes made at
Chefoo, we find reference to the osprey, the peregrine,
merlin, kestrel, Eastern red-legged falcon, black-eared kite,
goshawk, sparrow-hawk, and Stevenson’s hawk, amongst
diurnal birds of prey. “A female sparow-hawk”, he says,
“was brought to me onthe wrist by anative. He was training.
it for hawking.” Again he writes, “Throughout May in my
country rambles, I would frequently meet natives carrying
hawks on their wrists. This species (Stevenson’s) was in
the greatest request. . .1 once came upon a man actually
engaged in hawking.” Of hawks used in falconry in N. China,,.
Pére David' mentions the following: the golden eagle, goshawk,
Stevenson’s hawk, the sparrow-hawk, the saker, called the
“vellow hawk” by the Pekingese, the peregrine, and the
hobby, a list which covers the whole range of flying sport
from the capture of the smallest birds to that of wolf, gazelle,.
antelope, and deer. On foot and on horseback hunters roan:
thecountry toindulge in their favourite sport. It is impossible
to imagine anything more exhilarating in any form of chase
than the pursuit of prey on horseback aided by well trained
birds. A recent illustration in one of the British illus-
trated papers bringshomethisfactin a most attractive fashion..
The quarry there was a fox, the “hawk” employed, an eagle.
There we have the cunning of the quadruped matched
against the speed of the feathered pursuer, whose human
and four-footed allies are straining their utmost to keep up.
Polo is unquestionably an excellent game, and horsemen
rightly delight in it. But what is polo compared with this.
wild chase, helter-skelter over illimitable plains, through an
atmosphere which stimulates like champagne, and with the
gratification of the hunting instinct thrown in, the prey at
‘times as dangerous as the wolf can be, at others as swift as
a frightened antelope? Surely this must be the acme of
hunting delight, and it is no wonder that the Mongols and
Manchus have kept it alive. The only thing it lacks is the

music of the hounds.

CHAPTER XLIX.

TIGERS.

There is no need to tell the old China hand that there
are tigers in the Celestial Empire, and plenty of them, though
to this day, except in the travelled classes and amongst those
with time to devote to sport, the great majority of foreigners.
are not a little surprised to hear that there are tigers any-
where except in-India and its immediate surroundings. The
old notion that the tiger is essentially an animal of the tropics
has been hard to eradicate, whereas the truth is, in all pro-
bability, that “Stripes” is comparatively a recent intruder
into India from cooler parts of the continent. Even yet he
has not succeeded in getting into Ceylon. Certain it is
that he “feels the heat” as much as any foreigner, so much
so that he will lower himself, during the hot season and in
the hope of getting cool, to such an extent as to wallow like
a water buffalo in shallow pools and marshy mud, a thing
which in cooler climes no self-respecting tiger would ever
think of doing. Asa matter of fact the tiger is known from
the southern slopes of the Caucasus right across the continent
to the shores of Sakhalin, with the exception of the higher
portions of the Tibetan plateau where, either because the
cover is insufficient or the food supply scarce, the royal
beast is not to be found. And I have been assured, by men
who ought to know, that the finest of all the family are not
those of the scorching plains and tropical jungles of India,
but those of northern Korea, Manchuria, and South Siberia.
An old friend of mine who was accustomed, in addition to
other business, to buy all the tiger skins he could Jay hands
on, used to point with much pride to a skin which served for
his private office hearth rug. It was, he said, the largest he
had ever seen, and it measured 13ft. 3in. This is a matter
which will have to be considered later. I mention it here
because this particular skin was from a northern animal,
either Manchurian or Siberian.

' To the Chinese, naturally, the tiger has been known for
ages. I do not remember any reference to, or description
of, the tiger in either of the books of Confucius or Mencius,
but the “Book of Odes,” the Shi King, which is older than
either, has numerous references to that animal. An officer

198 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

of Wei, half in sorrow, half in scorn, laments the petty services
required of him, although as he says, “A tiger’s strength I
have.” Of the celebrated archer, Shuh-twan it is said:
“A tiger fierce his nervous hands
Grapple and soon subdue.” ;

But, asks another poet, “Who dares unarmed the tiger
face?” Such references might be added to, and others relat-
ing to the tiger’s skin and its use for mats, for bow-cases, etc.
are to be found.

Notes of my own, collected during the reading of years
contain the following references:— ae

In January, 1875, there was killed near Ningpo, within
five miles of the city gate a tiger which had caused the death
of two men. Mr. Forrest, then British Consul there, gave
some details of its measurements. Its length was 8ft. 2in.,
girth, 4ft. 4in., and its canine teeth were 3 inches long.
Archdeacon Moule in his chapter in Mr. Wade’s book, “With
Boat and Gun,” says, ‘Three times within my memory have
royal tigers visited the immediate vicinity of Ningpo, though
their chief home is amongst the mountains of Taichow.” I
once spent a month wandering amongst the hilly country
known best as the Snowy Valley and Ta-lan Shan districts
some 40 miles inland from Ningpo, but it was not my good
fortune to meet with anything more remarkable than
numbers of beautiful birds.

In 1880, there was a tiger killed near Hangchow. It was
brought to bay by an arrow shot, and afterwards took shelter
inacave. Itis said to have weighed 300 catties, and was sold
for $140, the natives having the strongest belief in the efficacy
of certain portions of the carcase if eatenortaken as medicine.
The fierce nature of the beast is supposed to be reproduced
in the bravery of the consumer, and this, of course, is
particularly desired by military officers and the like.

I have a note respecting a tiger which leaped intoa yard
in Newchwangandseized a pig, which it dropped when firedat.
In some parts of Manchuria there are saidtobe simple minded
country people who believe the story that tigers refrain from
attacking human beings, “because the Emperor has issued an
Edict forbidding sucha thing.” However true that may be of
the tigers of Manchuria, there is a different tale totellin the
Canton delta, where tigers are quite plentiful wherever they
can find suitable cover, for there in one year, in about two
months, no fewer than 20 people fell victims to man-eaters.

Tigers are also common in the neighbourhood of Fu-
chow. One was killed close to the west gate in 1894. It also
was a man-eater, and had carried a man to its den one day.
Next day, it was tempted out by the bait of a live goat and
shot. At Kuliang, the beautiful summer resort for Fuchow

TIGERS. 199

ladies, and lying within a few hours’ travel of Fuchow,
stories of tigers are plentiful, and in July 1897 a beautifully
marked young tigress was shot there. She measured seven
feet eleven inches, and weighed 205 lb. The year 1894 was
a record year for tiger finds. A young one was caught alive
on the hills near Canton, the lucky owner wanting $100 for
it, though it weighed only about 20 catties. About the same
time two full-grown ones were shot within two miles of the
British boundary of Kowloon. During 1895, tigers were
reported on the Ta-lung Shan near Nanking, where it was
said that oxen, deer, and boars were killed and eaten by them.

These records, all comprised within a period of less than
a quarter of a century, and taken hap-hazard, help to prove
that tigers are very widely spread throughout the Chinese
Empire. Unfortunately there has been no Selous, Blanford,
or Sanderson to do for China what they have done for Africa
and India, and the consequence is that there is more igno-
rance than exact knowledge of the condition of China with
respect to big game generally, and tigers in particular. It
is a great pity that it should be so but, of course, the diffi-
culties are considerable. India is as safe from human attack
as an English country, almost, whilst in really savage Africa
men took their defence into their own hands. China is not
altogether safe, especially during periods of special anti-
foreign feeling, and hunters would not dream of carrying
out their sport at the expense of war. But it would be an
excellent thing if some young Manchu or Chinese gentle-
men with sufficient influence could arrange hunting excur-
sions into the wilder parts of the Empire as a whole and
take with them some English gentlemen and naturalists
in order that our knowledge of the fauna of the country
might be added to. As it is, I know of no book dealing ade-
quately with the subject of the mammalia of the Chinese
Empire. Richard’s “Comprehensive Geography” is the
most authentic that I am acquainted with, but its knowledge
is the knowledge of missionaries and travellers rather than
of hunters and trained naturalists. In all probability there
are very few of the provinces of China which, if properly
examined in the most likely districts, would not provide
ample reward, and very few indeed in which at one time or
another “Mr. Stripes” would not be found at home.

The term “royal” as applied to the tiger, may possibly
have been suggested by China, where the people know him
as the king or prince of the cat tribe owing to the character
+= (wang) which is to be seen on his forehead. His appear-
ance is too well known to need description, but only those
who have had close experience in hunting him can tell of the
wondrous perfection of his protective colouring. I remember

200 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

reading of an instance. Two hunters were going through a
fringe of jungle land when one of them stopped dead and said
to the other, “Look, there’s a tiger!” “Where?” asked the other.
“There, don’t you see him,” said the first pointing at the
same time to a clump of reeds only a very few yards distant.
But the second man could see nothing but reeds. Nor did
he, till amovement of the beast, who was beginning to be
uneasy under the direct look of the human eye, showed his
shape. Then the wonder was—just as it is in a puzzle
picture—how anyone could possibly have missed seeing
him. The fact, however, remains, that not merely man,
but even the keen-sighted denizens of the jungle such as
deer, antelopes, boars, and the like are also unable to dis-
tinguish the alternate tawny and black stripes, so perfectly
do they resemble the dried up yellow reed stalks and the
dark shadows between, It seems doubtful whether China
suffers in her manhood from tigers to the extent that India
does. If she does, we do not hear of it. In Indi# the loss
of human life due to this cause is tremendous. Whole dis-
tricts are depopulated sometimes, first owing to the number
of deaths, a single man-eater having been known to kill
nearly 100 persons in a year, and then by the abandonment
of the group of villages near which the terror resides. Much
of this is due to a superstition from which the Chinese are
practically exempt. The Indian fears to kill atiger. There
is nothing the Chinese like better. Alive, a tiger takes toll
of flocks and herds: dead, he pays all the taxes for a
decade. Hence, probably a Chinese “ man-eater”’ has short
shrift. Even bounty for killing tigers in India will not
tempt some natives to compass their death, so strong are
superstitious beliefs connected with them.

2.9308 Wer

CHAPTER L.

TIGERS.—(Continued.)

I have already said that our knowledge of the Chinese,
Korean, Manchurian, and Siberian tigers is but scanty, and
I repeat that it is a pity some influential native has not
arranged for more or less scientific hunting parties in dis-
tricts worth the trouble. It is not now as once it was. Scores
of rich natives speak English well, and it should not be
difficult to get up parties of men from the two ees
to undertake the interesting task of studying “Stripes”
his Chinese haunts. As it is, we have to go to India boc
exact knowledge. There British officers on leave, and
Maharajahs fond of field sports are our main authorities.
Their experience is widespread and extends over a long
series of years. It does not, of course, bear out all the ex-
aggerated dimensions of heated imaginations. The tiger
which is “as big as an elephant—almost”—does not exist.
At least, if he does, he has never been brought to bag. The
tape measure applied from nose to tip of tail within a few
minutes of the fatal shot is no respecter of fancies. Inch
by inch it reads off the feet, and soon the tale is told. What
looked so immense to the tyro fails very frequently to reach
even 9 ft, and he is an immense tiger-—in India—which gets
into double figures and totals ten. One shot by the
Maharajah of Cooch Behar measured 10 ft. 14 in. Another,
of 10 ft. 5in., was the largest which the same sportsman had
met within 37 years’ shooting. On the Assam frontier one
of 10 ft. 6 in. was bagged on one ocvasion, but the record
Indian size, measured before skinning, reached a length of
10 ft. 7 in. The measurement of 12 ft. 2 in. mentioned in
Rowland Ward’s book refers probably to the skin, which
stretches considerably under manipulation. When one
turns from these figures to those of the record 13 ft. 3 in.
skin mentioned in the last chapter, there is a good deal of
room for question. Although this was a skin which I saw
with my own eyes, lam not by any means suggesting that
when alive its original owner stood anything like that size.
There are tricks of the trade which go beyond stretching,
and these may have been applied in that particular instance.
But when all necessary allowance has been made for this, the

202 WILD LIFE IN CHINA,

animal must have been an extremely fine one, in all probability
considerably bigger than the 10ft. 7in. record. To settle such
questions should be as interesting as it would be an instructive
task. With the proper backing, tiger hunting in all parts of
the Chinese Empire ought to be but little more expensive
than it is in India. What is wanted to ensure its being
properly carried out is sufficient interest in high circles.
There are surely enough manly and sporting Manchus to
jump at such a chance.

Another matter which needs settling is the question of
weight. This does not altogether depend on length, for
instances are known of extremely heavy tigers which have
shown comparatively meagre figures under the tape. The
average height of a well-grown, full-sized tiger—we are
referring again to the Indian—is from 3ft. 6in. to 3ft. 8in.
the tigress being usually smaller and lighter. It will be
remembered that the Chinese notes already given speak of
a lightly built tigress at Kuliang weighing 205 lb. and ofa
tiger killed near Hangchow which weighed 300 catties, say
400 lb. These are small when compared with the heaviest
reported from India, where from 400 to 450 lb. is considered
to be the average weight of a full-grown animal. Others of
much greater weight have been recorded. One of the large
ones mentioned above weighed 504 Ib. That which measured
10 ft. 14 in. weighed 600 lb. whilst the record weight given by
Rowland Ward is 700 lb. A vast difference is made of course,
if the tiger is killed immediately after he has gorged himself.

We should naturally look for a great deal of difference
between the pelt of an Indian tiger and that of one having
North Manchuria or Siberia for its habitat. It has already
been mentioned that the tiger is well known in India to
suffer from the heat. Rudyard Kipling’s tales of Shere
Khan, the great tiger in the Mowgli stories will be remem-
bered in this connexion. Indian heat does not demand
thickness of fur. Siberian cold does, and in no way is this
more conspicuous than in the ruff which, in the tiger, answers
somewhat to the mane in the lion. In the Indian tiger this
is thin and scanty compared with the same useful ornament
in the northern breeds. The same remark, however, applies
more or less to all parts of the covering. With the inborn
tradition which places the tiger only in hot lands, one often
wonders how it is possible for such an animal to withstand
the Arctic cold of the Siberian and Manchurian borders.
Travel through some of those districts has, however, con-
vinced me that in the more favourable parts the cover is
ample. The hills are well wooded, and there is abundance
of thick undergrowth in which any native beast, as the tiger
is, should be able to make himself comfortable, provided

TIGERS. ; 203

only there is always the necessary warm inside lining. Caves
probably abound. Food in plenty is a necessity, and that again
seems to be forthcoming, for the fauna of Manchuria, and
South Siberia, the two being practically the same, contains:
deer, stag, antelope, and wild-boar in great abundance,
to say nothing of many smaller animals. There is, there-.
fore, a richly varied menu supplied by Nature’ herself, and,:
of course, there are, in the more settled districts, numbers.
of domestic animals with which to vary the diet. In Central!
Asia, the tiger is known to live largely on wild swine, and’
wild asses.

The tiger does not leap on its prey as is represented im
many booksof popular natural—or rather unnatural—history..
As with a galloping horse, it is a rare thing for the four
legs to be all off the groundat once. The attack is made by
a sudden rush of only a few yards. Ifthe prey be an ox or
deer it is seized by the throat from below. Whilst the teeth
are thus engaged, the fore paws take hold one on each side
of the fore quarters. Then’a quick wrench, sometimes aided
by a spring to one'side, breaks the neck, and the operation
of killing is over. Sonretime a blow stuns the quarry at
once. This, probably, is the usual result when man is taken.
At other times, it is said, animals are hamstrung by a quick
stroke of the claws from behind, after which killing is easy.
The hind quarters are eaten as the first portion of the feast,
and the amount which a well-grown, hungry tiger can
dispose of is said to be enormous. A man a meal is about
the regular requirement of those degenerate beasts that
have taken to the “forbidden fruit.” A cow every five days
or so seems to be demanded by such as prey on the domestic
cattle of the Indian villager. But the tiger is by no means
dainty over his food. Having well gorged himself after a kill,
he will lie up for perhaps forty-eight hours, and during that
time an Indian sun does much in heightening the flavour of
beef or venison. Apparently this does not deter the tiger
from eating it. Carrion as it is, he devours what is left, and
is even said to take steps to prevent its falling into the claws
of prowling hyzenas or jackals. Unless taken unawares,
as they always are if “Stripes” can manage it, full-grown
buffaloes and even full-grown boars are said to be quite a
match for the master of the jungle, and on one occasion
Bagheera, the black panther friend of Mowgli, muttered
something about giving Shere Khan, the big tiger, a lesson if
he did not mind his manners. But that is a Kipling story.

Endless are the tales of hairbreadth escapes and hair-
raising situations in tiger hunting in India. One would
like to dwell on them for a while, but space forbids. I
noticed the large proportion of cases in which tigers that

204 WILD LIFE.IN CHINA.

have been brought to bay or to bag in China have been found
sheltered in caves and amongst rocks. I know that to some
extent this is true of India, and that it comes doubtless from
the ordinary cat’s love of dryness and warmth. But it also
suggests one explanation of the presence and of the comfort
-of tigers in Arctic climates. They are apparently: almost
always found amongst the hills, and there probably they find
not only the food they require but also the shelter they like.
Limestone hills, plentiful in many parts of China, are often
honeycombed with caves, and these unquestionably provide
-quarters entirely sheltered from rain, snow, or wind. A good
thick fur under such circumstances would be all that the
tiger would require for warmth.

Such points as these might be cleared up once for all if
‘the hunting expeditions which I have suggested could be
brought about. It is time this was done. There is hardly
a country in the world where there is so much pioneering
work of the kind to be achieved asin China. Central Africa
is now a familiar land in comparison. North America is
known from end toend. Much of South America is likewise
familiar. EEurope contains no secrets, and Australia no big
game to speak of. China, Manchuria, and South Siberia
-alone are left. Who is going to undertake the task?

CuHaprTerR LI.

LEOPARDS AND LYNXES.

Quite as widespread in China as the tiger, perhaps more
0, is the leopard (Felis pardus). Authors sometimes write
of this animal under the name of panther, but the best
authorities are convinced that the dual title is to be explain-
ed from the fact that leopards vary greatly, especially in
size, and not because there is any great physiological differ-
ence. We shall therefore, stick to the one name, leopard, in
such notes as it may be desirable to write under this head.
All that was said respecting the lack of definite information
about the tiger in China applies to the leopard. There are
references to be collected here and there from amongst books
of travel, etc; but no detailed or scientific account such as
we have in the writings of Swinhoe and David concerning
birds. Major Davies, in his entertaining and valuable work
on Yunnan and its borders, mentions seeing leopards—pan-
thers, he calls them—on various occasions, one of which had
been caught on the hills and was kept in a cage at a yamen.
Richard’s ‘Geography’ especially mentions leopards inAnhwei,
Kwangsi, Yunnan, and Manchuria, whilst I find references to
it in Mr. Wade’s “With Boat and Gun” from Ningpo, Wuhu,
Kiukiang, etc. Asa matter of fact, the leopard is the most
widespread of all the wild members of the cat family with
the exception of the lynx. It stretches right away from
‘Southern Africa, to Northern Asia, Tibet excepted, where
the ounce or snow leopard maintains the dignity of the
race. It is, therefore, like its bigger relative, acclimatized in
many realms and accustomed to: the widest extremes of heat
and cold. Like the tiger, also, its favourite habitat is
amongst hilly country with plenty of cover and abundant
‘shelter under rocks or in caves. There its protective colour-
ing serves it perfectly, the ground tints being those of the
rock or soil on which it lies, and the spots corresponding
exactly to patches of shadow from the over-head growth. An
English sportsman tells how he was just on the point of
‘sliding down a rock to land ona convenient boulder when the
‘said boulder sprang into life with a snarl and was off before
the hunter realized how woefully his eyes had betrayed him.

206 WILD LIFE IN CHINA

In size the leopard has been found to attain a length of
8ft. 4in. That is believed to be the largest on record, and
was shot in the Cooch Behar territory. Another mentioned’
in Cassell’s “Natural History” was 7ft. 6 in. and stood 2ft. 7 in.
at the shoulder. Notwithstanding its size and weight, which:
reaches 150 1b., the leopard climbs like a cat, running up
straight boles covered with smooth bark without the slightest
difficulty. This gives him an immense natural advantage
over the tiger, which never climbs except perhaps along a
sloping trunk, or by leaping into a low-lying fork. With such
strength as the leopard must have to enable it to climb so
easily, it is easy to believe in the many tales of its marvellous.
agility. This makes the animal all the more dangerous,.
especially when he takes to finding his living in the neigh-
bourhood of man, for though he rarely turns man-eater, he
is terribly destructive to domestic animals, especially to:
dogs, which seem to offer an irresistible temptation. Travel-
lers both in Asia and Africa have many tales to tell of the:
audacity of the leopard when stalking his favourite prey..
He has been known to snatch pet dogs from before the very
eyes of their masters and mistresses at hill-stations in India..
He has been lured into a trap baited with a dog when the
trap was within a few feet of the hunter’s tent. Besides this, he
is of quicker temper than the tiger, more easily roused to.
anger, and more daring when roused. Notwithstanding his
cunning in other respects, however, he is easily trapped, and!
in all probability the skins which we frequently see in.
Shanghai are thus obtained.

Like the tiger, the leopard first seizes the throat of the
animal it takes, holding on there with its teeth whilst its.
claws sink deep into the shoulders or the base of the neck. Its.
object is precisely the same as in that of the tiger, the snap-
ping of the vertebrae of the neck. Failing this, the hold is
kept till with loss of blood life ebbs away. Feasting on the
carcase is not begun at the hind quarters as in the case of
the tiger, but with the internal organs, to get at which the-
abdomen is ripped up. The leopard can swim well if put to it,
but he has not that liking for water thatis characteristic of the:
tiger, and may hence be found in very arid districts at times.

The snow leopard (Felis uncia), also known as the-
ounce, is, so far as I know, found in the Chinese Empire
only on the Himalayan border of Tibet. It is possible,
however, that when the exploring parties which we hope for
have gone on their journeys of discovery, this beautiful
animal may be found on other ranges farther north. He
runs, when adult, from 6 ft. to 7 ft. 4in. in length, and such is
his beauty and rarity that Indian sportsmen have given him.
the place amongst the greater felidae which British sports-

LEOPARDS AND LYNXES. 207

men have given to the woodcock amongst their feathered
game, that is to say, there is attached to the killing of a snow
leopard more kudos than the bagging of far bigger game.
Naturally much of the value of an ounce’s skin depends
almost entirely on the conditions under which the bearer
lives. His home is high up amongst the snows. Consequently
his coat is “almost of a woolly nature, the ground-colour
of the upper parts being a pale whitish grey occasionally
with a faint yellow tinge passing into pure white beneath.
The black spots are much larger than those of the leopard,
and over the greater part of the skin form irregular rosettes,
with the central area of each generally darker than the ground
colour ofthefur. During the winter the snow leopard is said
to descend the slopes to a height as low as 6,000 feet.

Felis nebulosa, or the clouded leopard, is another
species even less satisfactorily known than the snowleopard.
I am not absolutely certain that it is an inhabitant of China
Proper, though it is known along the line of the Himalayas
through Bhutan, Sikkim, Assam, Burma, the Malay Penin-
sula and so to the islands of the Indian Archipelago. A
somewhat different variety, with a shorter tail js found in
Formosa. But in all probability the south-western corner
of China, in the hill districts of Yunnan and along the border
line between that province and Burma would, if searched,
be found to contain specimens. The largest measurement
connected with the clouded leopard gives 6 ft. 6 in. as the
length, but that seems to have been a very exceptional
animal, and 5 ft. 6 in to 6 ft. is probably more near the average
size. To the Malays the animal is the “tree-tiger.” Practically
allits life is said to be passed on trees, onthe branchesofwhich
it sleeps. We are, however, dependent for most of our inform-
ation on native hunters, and these are not always reliable.

The hunting leopard, or cheetah, differs considerably
from the true leopards, so much so that he is put into another
category under the name Cynelurus jubatus. His claws are
only partially retractile, showing him to be no true cat. His
teeth, too, show variation. Everybody who has seen pictures
of the cheetah, which name, by the way, simply means
“spotted,” cannot fail to have noted how thoroughly Nature
has endowed him with power for the chase, for though the
cheetah naturally likes to get as close to his prey as possible,
he isnot, like the tiger and leopard, dependent for his dinner
on the succes of his first rush, but can, and does, run down
prey as speedy as the black buck of the Indian plains, against
whom, when he has been trained, he is frequently pitted by
his British or Indian master. I am claiming him as a mem-
ber of the Chinese family on the strength of the fact that he
is well known to have been used for hunting by the Tartars

208 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

ages ago. Whether or no he is to be found within the limits
of the Empire in his wild state I cannot say. He ts known
in Persia, however, and the chances are that diligent search
throughthe westernmost portionsofthe CelestialEmpire would
find him there. He attains a length of seven feet and stands
from thirty to thirty-three inches in height, and even in India
is far better known in the tame than in the wild state. When
out hunting, his eyes are hooded after the manner pursued
in falconry until the quarry is sighted. Well treated, the
cheetah is said to develop many cat-like qualities, purring
with pleasure and rubbing itself against the legs of its friends
in quite a tabby-like style. Its speed is very great, so great
that when at its best, “the speed of a race-horse is for the
moment much inferior.” Leopard-like, it seizes its prey by
the throat and holds on there, keeping, in the case of buck,
one paw over the horns to prevent hurt to itself.

Felis lynx, usually known as the lynx. and formerly
far more numerous in Europe than it is at present, stretches
through Russia into Siberia, and in one form or other is
found in Persia and Tibet. The true lynxes are, I believe,
all northern animals. They vary in colour from pale sandy
grey, to a rufous-fawn or ferruginous red, the under parts
being white. About 3 ft. 6 in. is the length of a large full-sized
lynx, but a specimen has been known to reach 4 ft. 1% in.
Forest dwellers, expert climbers. and more or less of a
retiring nature, lynx may eventually be found in parts of the
Chinese Empire where, so far, it is not known. In Tibet
where the variety known is Felis Isabellina, its habits con-
form to the nature of the country, and trees being scarce, it
makes its home amongst rocks and barren sandy wastes.
On the mountains it ranges in height from 5.000 ft. in winter.
to some 15.000 ft. in summer. Goats, sheep, smaller mam-
mals, and birds form its food.

The lynx is a peculiar looking animal owing to the long
tufts of hair and the whiskered ruff dependent from the side
of its head and jaws. The soles of the feet, too, are covered
with hair. Its danger to man lies in its wasteful destructive-
ness, for it will frequently kill far more than it needs to eat.
One pair is reported to have destroyed half a dozen sheep
in a single night. Their agility is remarkable. In con-
tradistinction to that of most other members of the cat
family, the tail of the lynx is short. The animal is however,
all the more interesting from the fact that &mparatively
little is known of it.

«

Se SRS

CHAPTER LII.

WILD CATS.

In the good old days of China sport, that is to say
during the years immediately succeeding the desolating
passage of the rebels of Great Peace—the Tai-pings—across
the country, and the hardly less destructive visits of their
foes, the Imperialists, when large tracts even in thickly
peopled Kiangsu had gone back to jungle, and wild life had
become as common as human life had.been, there was rarely
an extended shooting trip which did not include in its bag
one or more wild cats. (Vide “With Boat and Gun,” pp. 234-6)
Felis Sinensis, the common wild cat of China, varies con-
siderably both in colour and size. Specimens have been
secured but little larger than a large domestic cat, whilst
others attain to the proportions of a small leopard almost.
There is a very weasel-like look about some of them. The
silky rotundity of the pet of the hearth yields to a “tucked
up” wiry-looking, leggy appearance well adapted to many
aspects of tree life, or, if colour is concerned as well as shape,
to an easy and undetected passage through dry undergrowth.
Doubtless the wild cat of China uses its natural advantages
in both these ways. He is alert enough to spring on a
rising pheasant, he sometimes has weight enough to secure
a fawn, possibly even, with assistance, the smaller adult
local deer, Hydropotes inermis. Mr. Wade says of the wild
cats in the immediate neighbourhood, “There is only one
true wild-cat with us (Felis Bengalensis), in size equal toa
large domestic cat but very slim in the body.” What has
been said above relates to the specimens shown in the
Shanghai Museum under the name given. Felis Bengalensis
varies in length from 2 ft. to 2 ft.2 in. the length of tail
being about equal to that of body. Its ground colour varies
according to climate, soil, etc. from a reddish tint to grey,
and again from. grey to tawny, with spots, also varying con-
siderably in depth of colour from tawny through brown to
a chocolate almost black. This cat is known probably all over
the central and southern parts of China, possibly. also farther
north. It is familiar to western naturalists as the ‘“ Leopard-
cat”: rather from its spots than from its size.

210 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

But it is not by any means the only cat of the Empire.
A more beautiful one, known along the southern frontier and
in Burma, is the marbled cat, Felis marmorata, of about the
same size as Felis Bengalensis, but, as its name implies, more
richly marked. Nature has her reason for this. _The mar-
bled cat is almost purely arboreal, and its markings serve
for the purpose of making it seem part and parcel of the
branch on which it lies in wait, just as the markings of the
night-jar give it during the day the appearance of a knotty
excrescence from the bark. :

There is also the Tibetan cat, Felis scripta, which in
colouring is somewhat like the ounce or snow leopard, but
in size is a true cat.

Still another, known along the line of the Himalayas
and in Tibet, is the so-called golden cat, F. Temmincki.
This is of larger stature, rivalling very nearly the clouded
leopard at times, that is to say measuring 5 ft. or more in
length. From the S. E. end of the mountain system, it
passes on into Burma, and is probably a denizen of the hilly
districts in S. W. Yunnan near to which there has recently
been frontier trouble between Great Britain and China.
Scarcely anything is known of this cat even by the most
experienced naturalists, another reason for that widespread
examination into the life of Chinese mammalia which has
been before recommended.

Many of our readers will remember that very beautiful,
if somewhat fantastic, ode by Gray on the death of a fav-
ourite cat by drowning, of which the moral is,

“A favourite has no friends.”

Everybody, too, knows the fondness of our domestic cat
for fish, and some instances have been reported where tabby
has seriously taken to fishing notwithstanding her dislike to
wetting her fur. But very few people know that there is a
wild cat which is so devoted to this practice as to be known
by the name of the fishing cat. Yet so it is. Technically
the species is named F. viverrina. It resembles other cats
both with regard to size and shape, being spotted, short-
limbed, and brownish-grey in colourasarule. It is, however,
considerably larger than the domestic animal, reaching at
times a length of 34ft. and standing some 15 inches high. Its
peculiar mode of life is not its only distinguishing mark.
Anatomically there are differences in the skull which mark
it off from ordinary cats, and bring it more nearly into line
with monkeys. Geographically it ranges from Ceylon
through India to the Malay Peninsula, Burma, and so into
southern China. Possibly it is the same species that is
found in Formosa. Terrible is the character—for a cat—of
F. viverrind, That it should take to fowls when in the

WILD CATS. 211

neighbourhood of human habitations is not to be wondered
at, nor that it should make off now and then with a lamb or
some other toothsome and not too heavy domestic quarry,
but that it should, even when “acting together in a pair, drag
off a brace of ewes inasingle night is a matter of some
surprise. Yet such a fact is recorded in “The Royal Natural
History,” edited by one of our best naturalists, Richard
Lydekker. A still more surprising story tells how one of
these animals broke through a thin partition behind which a
tame female leopard was confined, and notwithstanding the
disparity in size, the leopard being twice as big, the result of
the fight which followed was that the cat killed its opponent.
Ordinarily, however, the fishing cat lives on the products
of swamps and marshes, taking fish, molluscs, small mammals,
birds, and even reptiles. Anything that comes along serves
as “grist to the mill.”

Two other species of cats found in the Tibetan and
Turkestan portions of the Chinese Empire are allied to the
desert cat of India. They are known as F. Shawiana, and
F. torquata. The former belongs to the districts of Yarkand
and Kashgar, the latter to the Tibetan border of Nipal. It
is believed that some of these are the descendants of tame
cats run wild, the domestic tabbies of the neighbourhood
frequently breeding with some of the wild ones. Some
authorities on the other hand think it possible that here we
have the particular wild species which originally gave us the
first domestic breed. Geographically there is a good deal
to be said for this theory.

Throughout southern Siberia and Mongolia, probably
also in Manchuria and some parts of northern China there
may be found F. manul, usually described as Pallas’s cat.
Its northern habitat would suggest differences between it and
those of the south. Those differences are found. The fur
suits the climate. It is soft, thick, and very long. The tail,
too, is very bushy. The colours probably vary somewhat
with the season, running from a buff-yellow with darker
marking on the back to silvery grey. The tail is ringed, and
there are stripes along the loins. In size Pallas’s cat is
practically that of the domestic kind, and it is supposed to
be the original progenitor of all the Angora and Persian
cats now tamed. In a large portion of Asia it takes the
place of the common wild cat of Europe. ;

That species, F. catus, is the last on our list. A
specimen of the wild cat, as found in Scotland, was once
killed measuring 45 inches in length. It was common in
olden times throughout the whole of Great Britain, but
is now found only in the wilder parts of Scotland. Thomas
Edward has no record of having met with one in any

212 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

of his nocturnal wanderings. But it is still. well known
in some of the wilder portions. of the European con-
tinent, and has been traced eastward to the Caspian and to
Persia. It is said to be unknown in either Norway, Sweden,
or Russia, and it remains to be proved whether in Siberia
and Mongolia, etc. it shares territory with F.manul. It has
the power of interbreeding with domestic varieties, and in
‘times gone by crosses half wild were not very uncommon in
the wilder parts of Great Britain, especially in Scotland.
There is however, a good deal of difference between the
ordinary tame cat and the wild one, and this is specially
marked in the tail. That of the domestic animal is somewhat
longer and more pointed. That of the other stumpier, more
distinctly barred, and looking like that of the Manx cat, as if
it had been cut off. Naturally, too, the colour of the wild
variety does not vary to the extent so frequently found with
those domesticated. I hada kitten a month or two ago which
was very similar in marking to that of the wild cat in China,
F. Sinensis, as they call it at the museum. It disappeared,
unfortunately, the body perhaps in pie, the pelt to the skin-
dealer. The striped markings of the wild cat are so well
developed that in olden days the animal was sometimes
known as the British tiger. The nine lives of the tame cat
are extended to at least a dozen in the case of Felis catus.
No other animal is so tenacious of life.

Oy aR o-g~

CHAPTER LIII.

A VERY MIXED MENAGERIE.

China is well supplied with other carnivorous animals
besides those of the cat tribe. The civets are common round
about Shanghai as also in other districts. Viverra Zibetha,
the large civet-cat, is, however, better known in the south.
It reaches a length of over four feet, is yellowish or hoary
grey with black stripes and spots, varying considerably in
appearance according to its environment. In common with
all its family it is destructive to game, poultry, rabbits, hares,
etc. It is from this species that the drug called civet is
derived. It is a secretion of the sub-caudal gland, and is so
attractive to hunting dogs that they are said to leave any
other scent for it.

The smaller civet-cat, V. Malaccensis, is well known in this
neighbourhood. There is a specimen in the Shanghai Museum,
presented by Dr. Stanley, which came from the Pootung side.
In 1893, Mr. D. M. Henderson after a long chase managed
to shoot a male specimen in his garden on the Bubbling Well
Road. It weighed 43 lb. only, but it had recently killed a hare
the remains of which were found amongst the bushes. Last
year a specimen was seen on the Bubbling Well Road in
broad daylight. It made its way into the wooded waste land
on the north of the bend near Chang Su Ho’s Garden, having
probably been chased in the country and driven into the
streets. Mr. Wade tells in one place of having seen women
busily engaged in skinning these odoriferous animals in
villages on the south bank of the Yangtze, together with
raccoon dogs. The little civet runs to about two feet in
length. It is sometimes caught and tamed in India. Ap-
parently, there are either two varieties or else a great differ-
ence in size in the one, for though the “little civet” has, as
above mentioned, an average of about two feet, V. Malaccensis
is said by some authorities to attain a length of 40 inches.

The tiger-civet (Linsang pardicolor) is, 1 think, confin-
ed, so far as China is concerned, to the southern provinces.
It has a total length of some 30 in., is extremely beautiful,
with the manners and climbing power of a cat. Some ofthe
palm-civets also find their way into Yunnan and the south.

One occasionally hears of the mungoose in this part of
China, but, so far as my own experience and reading go,
the only mungoose native of China is the crab mungoose.
Herpestes urva. This is found in South China, where it
seems to be partly aquatic in its habits, living largely on
molluscs, frogs, etc. It is the proud possessor of two scent
glands which have the skunk-like power of forcible emission.
Herpestes urva, therefore, is not a species to go into rhapso-
dies over.

214 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

I have already mentioned the raccoon-dog, so called
from a fancied resemblance to the raccoon. This animal,
known scientifically as Canis procyonoides, is common
throughout China, Japan, and Manchuria, and stretches even
into southern Siberia. Brownish-yellow and black are its
usual tints, though its colouration varies considerably. The
face, however, always has a combination of black, white,
and grey. The muzzle is sharp, the ears short and rounded,
the tail bushy and not very long. In winter it is well
protected by a coat of fur at once longand thick. Its habits
are usually nocturnal, and in some parts it is saidto hibernate.
It is a true dog, but is said to be a welcome adjunct to a
Japanese bill-of-fare, whilst its fur is highly esteemed.

Foxes are numerous in most parts of China. So are
wolves in the wilder and more hilly districts. These are
well known along the Yangtze, and stories are told at times
of their carrying off little children. In the northern prov-
inces, in Manchuria, Mongolia, and especially in Shensi,
wolves are as familiar in the folklore as they are in Russia.
Terrible devastation has been wrought by them at times.
One of the ten great depredations of which the Shensi people
have records was that of an invasion of wolves. They are said
to have been “beasts of brazen heart and iron courage”. They
killed men, women, and children by the hundred thousand.
They had “hemp-stalk legs”, they ran like lightning. They
set their teeth, raised their bristles, sprang at their prey and,
in a moment, all was over. They did not eat of the flesh
but merely drank the blood. Such is the story told by an old
native writer. Other irruptions, into the same territory, of
deer and sand-grouse are known in Chinese annals. From
the direction in which they came, the sand-grouse were locally
known as “Turk’s birds.” In all but size many of the
domesticated dogs of China have a true wolfish aspect, whilst
others are similar to the dogs of the Esquimaux, and some
others of like kind, which have evidently been allowed to
breed in the natural manner, and so have not had _ their
peculiarities perpetuated in distinct breeds as is the case
in the West. The Chinese, indeed, either have lost, or never
acquired, that instinct for improvement in breeds of domestic
animals which is so strongly developed in England.

The Tibetan wolf is sometimes known as the golden
wolf, or red wolf, Canis chanco. It is somewhat larger than
the European. I am not sure whether the jackal, so wellknown
over alarge part of Asia, forms part of the Chinese fauna.

Badgers are well known, especially in the soft alluvial
soil of this province, into which they can burrow as
fast as men can dig. Being nocturnal in their habits,
however, they are seldom seen unless one goes out for the

A VERY MIXED MENAGERIE. 215

purpose with terriers, spades, and all the paraphernalia of
the chase. The only one which I ever surprised in the open
was a belated young one just after dawn, close to where the
Shanghai Railway Station now stands. I wason the look out
for spring snipe: young “Brock” was doubtless sauntering
home after a “night of it.” But there have been many bad-
ger hunts with and without dogs in the district round Shang-
hai. The grave mounds are the favourite hunts of badgers.
There they can form a “sett” at once dry and comfortable.
So “Uncle Brock” takes up his abode where “the rude fore-
fathers of the hamlet sleep,” and from this hallowed ground
is ruthlessly drawn at times by the young men of Shanghai.
A bright moonlight night is the time for hunting him if he
is to be got in the open. Then some good cross-bred bull-
terriers form perhaps the ideal pack. They are speedy
enough easily to outstrip their quarry before he can reach
the sanctuary of his “sett,” and strong enough to hold him
up when headed. Then he can be either dispatched or
“sacked” at will. Digging him out is at once a labour and
an art. It is necessary first of all to know in which of the
many ramifications of his tunnelled home he has taken refuge.
So a terrier has to be sent in to find him and keep him en-
gaged if possible, whereupon his line of retreat may if necessary
be cut off by a cross trench into which he may, perhaps, thrust
himself by digging, doubtless to his unmeasured surprise.
The record weight of a badger is given as 37 lb. There
are various species.

Hares are other animals that are well dispersed through-
out the Chinese Empire. There are at least seven species
of Asiatic hares, but so little is as yet known respecting the
various Chinese species that it is impossible to say how
many are to be found within the many climes to which
China can lay claim. Lepus Sinensis, as known in this
neighbourhood, is more of a rabbit than a hare in size.
It is, however, a true hare, the rabbit, so far as Iam
aware being unknown in the province. It is plentiful
enough when the conditions are suitable. I have had some
very good hare shooting at Christmas time in fields of
standing straw from which the grain had been taken.
Natives say that the local hare burrows, and they point to
“buries” in grave mounds as proof, but it has never been
my good fortune to see one put out of such cover. ;

Born slayers of the hare are the weasel tribe, very
numerously represented everywhere, as may be seen any day
by a visit to a pelt-monger’s. smelly establishment. I have
frequently seen weasels within the limits of the Shanghai
settlement, and those residents who pride themselves on
their fowls have to provide carefully against nocturnal visits.

216 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

I shot a weasel once which, lacking chicken or hare, had
contented himself with a fine fat frog, and was in the act of
making a meal of it.

Allied to the weasels are otters, also well represented.
Many years ago now, there was a family of otters which
had made its home at the Public Garden corner of the old
Garden Bridge. There, one might, with a stroke of good
fortune, come across either pater or mater familias. Once
I say one of them cross the footpath into the Public Garden,
notwithstanding the fact that there were a considerable
number of people in the garden at the time and still more
crossing and recrossing the bridge close by. On another
occasion I had the very uncommon pleasure of watching the
mother and two or three little ones playing about in the
water close to the steps which formerly led down the slope
there. It is possible that these animals had once been tame,
as it is not at all an uncommon thing for the Chinese to tame
otters and train them to catch fish. They are said to be
extremely interesting pets. Lutra sinensis, the Chinese variety,
runs to nearly four feet over all, though the average length is
less. It still finds a home in many of the creeks in the Yangtze
delta. Sea-otters are, I believe, found along the China coast..
There are plenty of them along the more northern Pacific
coasts.

The seal is another amphibious animal which frequents.
Pacific waters and visitsthe China coasts, and I have twice:
seen whale at sea between Hongkong and Japan. These
were probably the grey whale (Rachianectes glaucus) the
only one of its kind. It is found in the North Pacific and
nowhere else, except perhaps during migrations. The lesser
sperm whale is another Far Eastern species. Of porpoises.
the name is legion. They come up the rivers at all times,
and may be seen in the Huangpu above and below Shanghai,.
as they may up the Yangtze. The “killer” or grampus is
another Pacific cetacean. So is the “black-fish’, another
genus. A representative of the dolphins, specially known on
the China coast, is the White Dolphin, Sotalia Sinensis.
This peculiar creature is said to have a ground colour of
white, pink fins, and black eyes. It is known bon in the Min
and Pearl Rivers, as also in the harbour of Amoy.

CHAPTER: LIV.

SOME BIG GAME.

Bears of various kinds are well known to the Chinese.
The Himalayan black bear (Ursus Tibetanus) is, as its
name implies, a highlander. But even in Tibet it is not com-
mon, and has to be sought on mountain slopes from a height
of from 5,000 ft. to 11,000 ft. according to the season. In com-
mon with others of their family they are more given to vege-
table than to animal food, though very fond of honey. This
particular species is somewhat handicapped by bad eyesight,
but what it lacks in this regard it makes up in keenness of
scent.

The brown bear (U. Arctus) finds a home from the
Himalayas to Siberia the species varying somewhat from
each other according to climate and surroundings. The
extreme length of the Himalayan species known so far is
given as 7 ft. 6 in. this being some six inches shorter than
the record specimen in Europe. In Siberia, on the other
hand, specimens have been found exceeding 8 ft. My own
experience with them consists, unfortunately, only in an
acquaintance with one very remarkable museum specimen.
We had stopped one day at a little roadside station on the
Siberian route, where, beside the station buildings, was a
small collection of stuffed animals from the surrounding
country—the eastern foot-hills belonging to the Ural range.
The only animals [can remember were a very fine wolf in
splendid condition, and a still finer brown bear which looked
a monstrous size. What its height really was—it was posed
standing on its hind legs—I cannot say, but I am quite pre-
pared to believe in the statement that specimens are found
over 8 ft. in length and weighing as much as 1,500 lb.

Turning from the fiercer animals to those of gentler
type we come tothe Chinese representatives of the wild
sheep family. There are several of these, some of which
are much sought after by sportsmen. The Pamir Wild
Sheep (Ovis poli), for instance, which has been long connect-
ed with name with Marco Polo, is famed for the magnificent
horns sometimes grown by the ram. An extreme horn
length of 6 ft. 3 in. has been known, the girth of this specimen
being 1 ft. 4 in. and the spread at the tips no less than 4 ft. 64in.

218 WILD LIFE IN CHINA,

O. Ammon, the Siberian Argali, is another fine sheep
believed to be found within the northern confines of the
Chinese Empire. It weighs sometimes as much as 350 lb.
and has a record horn measurement of over 5ft. The Tibetan
Argali (O. Hodgsoni) is very similar to the Siberian.

Littledale’s sheep is to be met with on the slopes of the
Central Asian regions amongst the Tien Shan and Altai
ranges. Its measurements are much the same as those of
the Argali.

Another wild sheep identical perhaps with the Indian
Oorial is found in the western districts of Chinese Turkestan,
where it is known as the Sha or Sha-po. Its horns are as
gracefully curved as those of the other species, but they are
not of the same length, and the animal is, as a rule, smaller.

The Kamtschatkan wild sheep (O. nivicola) may possibly
be found in N. Manchuria along the range of the Long
White Mountain, but I am not sure about this.

Of goats, Capra Sibirica, the Asiatic Ibex, is known on
the Tien Shan, and there are other species found on the
Himalayas both on the Indian and the Tibetan side. The
celebrated Markhor is one of these. This beautiful, agile,
and graceful creature is noticeable for the spiral twist to its
horns. The longest known of these measured 45 inches.
One species of the Ibex has spread itself practically from
Siberia to the Himalayas.

A small species of goat, allied to the chamois, is the
serow, of which specimens have been found in Formosa, by
Swinhoe and others.

Of antelopes, China can boast of the Tibetan gazelle,
known as the Goa (Gazella picticaudata), a little animal of
about 2 ft. in height; the Mongolian gazelle, (G. gutturosa),
Prjewalski’s gazelle, the Chiru, or Tibetan antelope, and
some others.

The wild yak is found in Tibet alone, and there only
high up amongst the massive piles of the great Asian
backbone.

Various forms of deer have distributed themselves over
the Empire. The Kashmir stag, and its Sikkim cousin, the
Shou, may probably be claimed as occasional migrants into
the neighbouring Chinese Territory. There isa wapiti found
on the Tien Shan with horn measurements of 55 inches, and
another, the Bactrian wapiti, in various parts of Turkestan,
with less imposing antlers. A third is the Manchurian
wapiti, with still smaller antler measurements, and the last
of the genus known so far, the Siberian wapiti, about which
there are no very authentic data to be found as yet.

A pretty little type of deer is the sika type known both
in China and Japan. The antlers are less branched than is

SOME BIG GAME, 219

the case with many other kinds, no more than nine points
having been found as a rule. The Japanese sika weighs
about 1801b. It has a Manchurian relative which is some-
what taller, and another, known as the Peking Sika (Cervus
hortulorum), which stands about 4 ft. Of this species a ten-
pointer has been killed. In Formosa:many years ago,
Swinhoe was the discoverer of the Formosan sambar,
(C. unicolor Swinhoei) of which a specimen in the
British Museum gives the following measurements—Length
of horn, 1 ft. 72in: tip to tip, 9in., points, 3 and 3.
A bigger sambar than this is, however, found in Szechwan,
but it is little known in Europe. There are other species
of deer found in the south, the littlhe muntjac or barking
deer, for example; but the most interesting to Shanghai
residents because the only one found in the immediate
neighbourhood, is the improperly so-called hog-deer, (Hydro-
potes inermis,) for the original description of which we are, I
believe, again indebted to Swinhoe. For complete accounts
of this interesting animal, the reader is referred once more
to “With Boat and Gun.” Mr. Wade says, “A fair average
weight for a river deer is 22 lb.”, and European sportsmen
will probably be astonished when they are told that “ No. 8
shot is quite large enough to knock over a deer at 25 yards.”
I have shot them with No. 5 myself. As its name implies,
the “water-drinking ” deer is “unarmed,” that is hornless,
but he is provided with a pair of dependent tusks in the
upper jaw which measure three or four inches and are
sometimes very sharp. I have turned this little deer out of
all sorts of places, but have never been able to study it,
myself unseen. Once IJ saw a little herd of five or six on
the “Kashing plain” whilst it was yet in the wild state in
which the Taiping rebellion left it, and was much interested
in watching their antics. They were well out of danger
when they saw me, but they moved off, flinging their heels
high in the air after the manner of a frisky colt. From
2,000 to 3,000 per annum, Mr. Wade tells us, find their way
to the Shanghai market.

From the graceful deer to the clumsy pig is a far
cry. But in China the pig is,as in Europe, fair game
for the gun, and not, as in India, specially reserved for
“sticking.” How much difference there is between Sus
scrofa the European wild boar, and Sus cristatus, his
Indian brother, is a matter of dispute between modern
naturalists, but Mr. Lydekker thinks them specifically
distinct. Our Chinese representative, which rejoices in
the name of Sus leucomystax, the white-whiskered boar,
may also be a separate species. But the whole matter
demands scientific research. In place of that in this con-

220 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

nexion, however, I prefer to condense a graphic account of
a pig-shooting incident in the career of a well known Shang-
hai resident in the seventies and ‘eighties, Mr. W.S. Percival,
of H.M. Civil Service. His book, which contains the story,
was published in 1889 under the title of “The Land of the
Dragon.” It was on one of the hills near Chinkiang he
says “that I bagged the largest pig I ever saw.” “It was a
near thing, for he nearly bagged me instead.” The pig had
been lying up amongst the tangled scrub on the side of the
hill whence it was turned out by the commotion caused by
four beaters whom Mr. Percival had withhim. “One of these
suddenly called out, ‘Yah-chue’! and a huge pig crashed
through the scrub and trotted along the narrow path in front
of me. I had a heavy twelve-gauge double rifle weighing
close on to 12 lb. and throwing two-ounce flat-headed conical
balls, propelled by six and a half drams of the best rifle
powder. Some twenty yards in front of me was the monster,
the largest I have ever seen: a splendid driving shot, and I
knew there was quite sufficient power in the gun to rake him
from stern to stem. It was too easy a shot, and I suppose
I was careless over it, for a worse shot I never made. The
ball struck him five inches higher than I ifitended, ran along
the spine, tearing the skin along the back and cutting away
the half of one of his ears, inflicting a mere scratch that did
not in the least disable him.” Naturally the boar wheeled
and charged, and there was a very good chance for proceed-
ings on the morrow in which H.M.’s Consul would act as
coroner. There was no time to re-load. “As the boar passed
he made a most vigorous dig with his tusks, but the instant
before he made his thrust I had sprung on one side off the
track into the scrub, and as he passed he just grazed me
near the thigh. His impetus carried him three yards farther
before he quite realized he had missed: then he came round
again for another charge, but as he exposed his broadside,
I planted the second ball at not more than six feet distance
well behind the shoulder. He stopped instantly, favoured
me with another of his wicked glances: then, slowly his
head dropped, and he fell over on his side and died. We
gralloched him, slung him over a bamboo, and sent him with
four coolies down to Chinkiang, where we afterwards heard
that he turned the scales at 510 lb. His tusks, which were
in perfect condition, were six and a half inches long.”

It will be seen from this account which is quite reliable,
Mr. Percival being well known not only to the present writer
but to hundreds of others on the China coast, that the wild
boar of China, whatever his classical honours, surpasses
both his Indian and European relatives considerably in
weight. The extreme weight of Sus scrofa of Europe is but

SOME BIG GAME. 221

400 lb. His tusks, however, ran round the outer curve to as
much as 13 in. The Indian boar weighs something over
300 Ib. but his tusks reach to nearly 144 in. Mr. Percival
‘says that there are stories amongst the Chinese country
people of bigger boars than even his. “They are black and
white in colour, are said to have teeth like saws, and to weigh
from eight to nine hundred pounds each.” They are reported
to be very savage, doing great devastation in the rice fields,
and sometimes eating children. This he took cum grano salis.

CuHapTER LV.

REPTILES.

Leaving the smaller and less well known mammalia tilf
a more convenient season, observers of wild life in China
find ample scope for their land and water studies in the many
species of reptiles in which the country abounds. Here it:
will be possible only to glance at the more prominent and
offer such comment as personal observation suggests. Books
on natural history need not to be very old to be innocent of
all knowledge of the Chinese alligator, the existence of which
was not even suspected in Europe till within recent times.
During my residence in Shanghai there have been three
occasions, if I remember rightly, when alligators have been
found in the river or on its banks. The biggest measured
but 8 ft. In one instance some six or eight were said to have
been brought here by a Siamese barque, the captain of
of which thought to dispose of them to the Chinese. Failing
in this he turned them adrift in the river. It was during the
hot weather, and some timid swimmers gave up their
evening plunge in consequence. The rest of us kept on and,
so far as I know, nobody ever came to close quarters with
any of the saurians except ashore. One was caught in
the Old Dock, and another, which had so far forgotten
himself as to be found in the very early morning in Broad-
way, wasalsotaken. The species seems to be entirely of the
fish-eating kind.

With regard to snakes, the Chinese not merely assert,
but firmly stick to the assertion, that there are certain kinds
of snakes with feet, a survival here of a similar old belief in
Europe that, before the little episode in the Garden, before
“Nan’s first disobedience and the fruit of that forbidden
tree whose mortal taste brought death into the world and all
our woe,” the serpent stood upright. I used to combat the feet
idea as quite nonsensical. But many years ago as the result of
a little incident at the Hills, I ceased to wonder and con-
tradict. I was in search of rare ferns one day on the
hillside, when I saw moving swiftly through the undergrowth
what I took to be a new snake. It was only about 18 inches
long, with a body thickness of about the size of one’s little
finger. I killed and examined it. Sure enough there were

REPTILES. 223

four legs, very short, but still unmistakeable. It was, of
course, a lizard—of what species I cannot say. But I never
ridiculed the Chinese belief in legged snakes after that.
There are several other sorts of lizards which I have come
across in my wanderings, but I have only seen one more
specimen of the kind just named, and that was under a foot
in length.

Snakes are plentiful and of several kinds. I do not
mean to enter on a scientific disquisition on them, but only
wish to relate the results of my own knowledge. The
commonest is the so-called grass snake, very much like its
representative in England, but attaining greater length. The
biggest I have killed for examination purposes measured
seven feet. It is perfectly harmless, and may be found
almost everywhere from the paddy field to the hilltop. It
swims with consummate ease and grace. Another variety,
or rather, I think, two or three other varieties, confine
themselves as a rule to the creeks and their banks. These
are quite small, and so far as my own observation goes
rarely attain the length of more than three feet. These also
are quite harmless. I have examined many. The only
snake which I have actually seen with fangs here was a sort
of viper which I saw immediately after a farmer had killed
it in his field close to the then suburbs of Shanghai. The
site is now covered with houses. Of this the length was about
30 inches. There were the usual viperine signs, the flattened,
broad-backed head, the comparatively thick body, and the
stumpy tail, with none of the attractiveness which makes
the grass snake a thing of beauty. The markings were dark
in colour, and there was generally that fat repulsive appear-
ance which some of the poisonous snakes possess in such a
marked degree. I cut off the head and carried it home.
The fangs were well formed and about a third of an inch
long. During the year 1900, whilst Shanghai had, amongst
the garrison sent here on account of the Boxers, some Indian
troops, there was some very interesting correspondence
respecting snakes found within half a mile or so of one of
the camps. Col. Rundall had no hesitation at all in declar-
ing them to be Russell’s viper, one of the most venomous
serpents known. He ridiculed the notion that the troops
had brought them from India in fodder. They had seen
three of the little beasts, one three-quarters of a mile from
‘the camp. Another correspondent wrote to say that the
snake in question was marked very much like the Russell,
and was venomous, but that it was not the Russell but the
Halys Blomhoffi, uncommon near Shanghai though well
known farther north. Personally, I have never seen one alive.
I have seen specimens of another snake known to the Chinese

224 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

as the Hu-cha-lien, or fire-coloured chain snake, the mark-
ings of which have a reddish tinge. This is said to be
poisonous, but I can neither confirm nor deny the native
belief. Only once have I come across a specimen of the
curious snake known as the “Iron-wire snake,’ one of the
burrowing family. The Chinese have a belief about these
that if they coil themselves round a man’s finger or the tails
of animals it is impossible to remove them, that strangul-
ation of the member results, and sloughing takes place till it
drops off. “The China Medical Missionary Journal”, Vol. XV.
p. 303 gives the following description: “The snake is about
6 inches long, shaped much like a common earth worm, has
about the same diameter, a trifle smaller perhaps, and darker
in colour.” This answers precisely to the specimen I saw.
That described was seen in Foochow, mine in Chekiang, on
the hills at Chapoo. When first I saw it, my ten year old
son was nonchalantly turning it over with his naked toe! I
did not know at the time that all these burrowing snakes are
harmless. The Chinese do not resent the presence of snakes
in their houses sometimes, probably because of their rat-
killing powers. I spent a month once in a Chinese house
amongst the hills of Northern Chekiang, and was assured
that there was a snake living within a dozen feet of my bed.
I never saw it, however, and the thought of it did not worry
mein the least. Pootoo Island, the outermost of the Chusan
Group is noted for its snakes. Ten days which I spent there
many years ago discovered many. Onehad slid into a small
gravel pit about two or three feet deep, from which, owing
to the friable sides, it could not escape. It was about a yard
long, very dark in colour, with red spots which glowed like
coals of fire when I teased it. When killed it turned out to
be quite innocuous. I once watched through a whole day
when traversing the China Sea for sea snakes, and saw a
large number, especially amongst those long streaks of float-
ing scum which sometimes for miles cover the water. They
varied between three and about eight feet in length apparent-
ly—fat unctuous, repulsive creatures looking as venomous
as they probably are.

Southern China, of which I have no very intimate
knowledge, is said to be rich in reptilia of almost all sorts.
Of the reptile life of Hongkong we have, of course, a more
or less complete knowledge. There are at least seven
species of snakes, one of them a python which is common
but, as a rule, not of any very large size considering its kind.
Occasionally, however, we hear of one large enough to cause
note to be taken of it in the press. Cobras are numerous in
some parts. Some years ago one was found on the verandah
of Gen. Black’s house on the Peak. The cats were playing

REPILES. 225

with it. Another species to be avoided is a bright-green pit
viper, Trimeresurus graminens, which has the honour of
belonging to the same family as the rattlesnakes. One was
kilied some years ago, as I find in my notes, which measured
3 it. In 1894 cobras were so plentiful that the Government
paid 50 cents a head for them, acustom which might serve on
an emergency, but which would probably lead to breeding
if continued, the Chinese being always ready to earn an
honest penny. One of the very poisonous sea-snakes before
referred to, a species of Hydrophis, is found in the waters
round Hongkong. Ashore they have also species of the
iron-wire snake, classically named Typhlina, which burrows
under stones and into the soil.

Cobras come as far north as Wenchow, if not farther.
I have recently heard of their being killed there in the
garden of the Commissioner of Customs, Mr. Bowring. In
all probability the mainland in the neighbourhood of the
Canton delta is richer in reptile life than is the steep and
rocky isle of Hongkong. The Shanghai Museum contains
afair number of specimens, and was the scene some few
months ago of a most interesting lecture on reptiles by Dr.
Stanley, the Honorary Curator. But there is a vast deal yet
to be learnt of this fascinating subject, and it is a pity some
of the many missionaries and consuls scattered over the:
surface of the country do not follow the noble example set
them by Pére David, Mr. Swinhoe, and a few other pioneers,
and give the world the benefit of their researches.

How many species of tortoises and turtles are to be met
with in the Chinese Empire I have not the slightest idea.
Judging by what one sees in the delta of the Yangtze, the
number of individuals is illimitable, whatever may be the
yumber of species. One finds the tortoise everywhere, in
fields, gardens, marshes, ponds, rivers, etc. and the number
of carapaces that might be accummulated is without number.
The native farmers use them for blinkers when their cattle
are circling round the irrigating machine. One kind of sea
turtle which lands on the island of Hongkong and other
adjacent islands sometimes weighs as much as 400 lbs. They
come ashore to lay their eggs.

ee! Ce

Cuaptsr LVI.

FABULOUS CREATURES.

No account of actually existing life within the limits of
the Chinese Empire could be complete which did not include
fabulous animals of various kinds, beasts, birds, fishes, and
reptiles, in which the Chinese believe quite as firmly as they
do in most of those referred to in preceding pages. Western
readers must not, in reading what is to follow, indulge too
freely their hilarity, for they may well be reminded of their
own credulity in times gone by, when dragons were known at
Wantley and a unicorn became an equal supporter with the
lion of Britisharms. Reading between the lines it will be
seen that in some of the following descriptions there is an ad-
mixture of factand fable. Taking the subject under the heads
of beasts, birds, fishes, and reptiles, we come first to the beasts.

Priority ought surely to be given to the dragon, that being
the symbol of Chinese nationalism. Ithink it quite possible
that the dragon might have been the off-spring of fright,
imagination, and bad drawing after an unexpected adventure
with an alligator. Later on the imaginary animal acquired
the power of rising into the air, and so became a flying
dragon, a symbol of power, as well as of strength and
wisdom. It is classed in China as one of the “four mar-
vellous animals,” the other three being the tortoise, the
phoenix, and the unicorn. Such as follow, it will be noted,
rank amongst those that are not marvellous but merely
natural.

There is the Che-lin, for example, known to everybody
acquainted with Chinese pictorial art and pottery. It belongs
to the deer family, but later ages provided it with a cow's
tail, the forehead of a wolf, and the hoof of a horse. When
the Che-lin and the Phcenix walked abroad in the olden
times, then were the days of prosperity. Before the times
of Confucius even, this animal had become the symbol of
national well-being.

Next we have the Ma-hwa. This is a creature of the
monkey tribe, or rather of the apes. He is found in the
western parts of the Empire, particularly in Szechwan.
What he is specially noted for is his penchant for pretty

FABULOUS CREATURES. 227

women. Whenever one of these strays into his haunts, he
carries her off, makes her his wife, and proceeds to lay siege
to her affections in a way which argues knowledge. He
loads her with jewellry and fine clothes, which he gets some-
how or other by stealing, and in time the woman becomes so
fond of him that she would not leave him if she could!

No less wonderful is the Jung, or gibbon, of Yangchow
in the province of Kiangsu. (The exact whereabouts of
several of these marvellous creatures is well known to
everybody in China—except, of course those of the locality
named.) The Jung is an extremely large and agile ape, a
tyrant to his own species. He is described as having long
yellowish-red hair, and is said to be of a cannibal turn of
mind. Whenever he wants a meal the other monkeys
are made to sit round him in a circle so that he may by
means of pinching and poking find out which of them is the
fattest. On the head of the selected he lays a stone. The
rest are then free to scamper off, the victim only remaining
and following its captor, who doubtless looks at it as the
cook of the “Nancy Bell” looked at the sole survivor:—

“Come here,” says he, with a proper pride,
Which his smiling features tell,

“*T will soothing be, if I let you see
How extremely nice you'll smell!”

For the veracious natural history of the Celestial
encyclopedia tells us that the monkey follows the Jung
until they reach the nearest stream, into which the monkey
plunges, washes himself carefully, pulls out all his hair,
and then lies down to be eaten! :

The Jih-kih is of the bovine family. There must also
be a connexion between it and certain pigs in the more
poverty, stricken districts of Ireland, where the people are
so poor that they can afford to kill only half a pig at a time.
Similary with the Jih-kih, which belongs to the province of
Kansu, and should be extremely useful to any Russian
invaders who may come along, for this useful animal is able
to provide its owner with one or two catties of meat fer
diem, which when cut away is completely replaced within
twenty-four hours. :

One more specimen completes my list of the four-footed
beasts of fable. That is the Mak, or tapir. Of the habitat
of this extraordinary animal my authority is silent. But
its peculiarity is worthy of note. Itschieffoodisiron. This
accounts for the hardness of its droppings which are used
by lapidaries for polishing the hardest kinds of jade. It is
possible that the origin of this fable is to be accounted for
by the fact that some igneous mineral in a more or less

228 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

decayed form is used for the purpose named, and as nobody
could account for its condition they explained it by assum~-
ing it to be the droppings of an animal, the rest of which
could then easily be imagined, food and all complete.

There are more fabulous birds in Chinese legends than
there are beasts. The phoenix has already been mentioned-
So far as I know, the Arabian legend in which it rises from
its own ashes is not known in the Far East. But its place
is taken by other details quite as interesting. In the first
place the bird is as rare in China as ever the phoenix
was with the Arabs and others. It is only to be
found when reason rules mankind. Consequently it is.
as uncommon as the fabled immaculate official of whom two
specimens are to be known in Chinese history. One of
these is already dead, and the other not yet born. When
the phoenix does come, however, it is followed by all the
rest of the feathered tribe, and brings with it prosperity and
well-being tothe whole country. Would that it might arrive
to-morrow. But where is the rule of reason?

In the province of Shansi, and in the /isien of Hung-
tung there is a bird which is endowed with what seems to be
a power readily believed in by the Chinese, and not unknown
in earlier times in the West, the power of changing its form.
It can throw aside its bird-nature at will, divest itself of its
feathers and become a woman. The metamorphosis is so
complete that the bird-woman can be mated with a man and
live with him as his wife. Should she fly off occasionally
he ought not to be surprised, if he is acquainted with the
circumstances. ;

One of the bits of superstition alluded to ina previous
chapter (on owls) is connected with the Hiu-liu, a kind of
laughing horned owl. This is one of the purely nocturnal
kind, lying low during the day. One of its little peculiarities
is its fondness for playing spiteful tricks on children. If
their clothing is left out at night, the owl will drop some
dust on them which has the certain effect of making the
child ill. Another more uncanny power possessed by it is its
ability to become the abode of some dead man’s soul. This
in itself should give it supernatural power, but not content
with that the Hiu-liu in some marvellous manner adds to
its impish attributes by eating finger nails. That explains
very fully, and of course quite naturally, why country people
always hide their nail cuttings.

Another extraordinary bird is known as the Fire-queller.
It has a peculiar screeching cry, but its chief characteristic
is its power, if thrown on a fire, of putting itoutatonce. In
Shanghai one of our earliest fire brigade companies called
itself, in what is perhaps questionable Chinese, the Mih-ho-

°

FABULOUS CREATURES. 229

loongs, the “ Destroying-fire-dragons,” but it is not unlikely
that, had they known of the celebrated bird they might have
named themselves differently, and more appropriately.

Next comes what surely must be a not distant cousin to
Sindbad the Sailor’s roc, which thought little of flying away
with an elephant. This is the Chinese Tiger-eagle. It has
a body as large as that of an ox, and its wings have a spread
of 20 ft. As its name implies it is a deadly foe to tigers,
leopards, etc.

At Twan-sin-chow there is said to be a strange fish-eating
bird which makes its home in the swamps and marshes.
Whenever it cries, swarms of mosquitoes issue from its
mouth. Hence it has the name of Wan-mu-niao, or Mun-
mu-niao, the “Mother of Mosquitoes.” It is a bird of
considerable value to those who can catch or kill it, for fans”
made of its feathers have an extraordinary reputation for
their mosquito repelling quality. It is quite possible that
here we have a bit of perfectly correct natural history
mingled with some not unnatural error. It is the swamp or
marsh that is the real “mother of mosquitoes”: any fish-
eating bird frequenting it, and there are many varieties of
herons, egrets, bitterns, etc., may well, when calling to its
mate whilst stalking through the reeds and grass, drive up
flocks of mosquitoes, and thus give rise to the legend.
Learned doctors, until Dr.Manson led the way, made not
altogether dissimilar mistakes in respect to swamps. They
long knew of their malaria-breeding powers, yet they never
suspected the mosquito. It is a curious story that, but, of
course, it belongs to another category.

EOL ALOHA

.

Cuaprer LVII.

FABULOUS CREATURES.—( Concluded.)

What seems to be rather a mammal than a bird is the
Fei-sheng, or “Flying Breeder,’ whose young, as its name
implies, are born alive, and not produced first in the form of
eggs. According to the description, the young, born whilst
the parent is on the wing, are immediately able to fly after
her. It is believed that there is here a merely fabulous story
derived from imagination and a sight of some flying squirrels.
Chinese midwives say that the use of a claw of this bird-
manimal will procure an easy accouchement.

Hunan is credited with the possession, at Yung-chow, of
a swallow which during high winds and stormy weather
loves to fly in the gusty elements, but as soon as the storm
subsides turns to stone again. Hence it is known as the
Stone Swallow.

The Oil Squeezer is a native of Kaichow in Shantung.
In appearance it might easily be mistaken for a sheldrake
floating on the water. About the beginning of summer its
body is said to exude a considerable quantity of oil.
Hunters search for it on this account. When captured and
killed, the bird is squeezed until no more oil can be obtained
from it, and then the miraculous element comes in. No
sooner is the dried skin thrown on the water than it becomes
a living bird once more, and in time, presumbly, supplies
another quantum of oil

What ardent fishermen the Chinese are everybody
knows who is at all acquainted with them, and as the illimit-
able ocean yet contains many creatures in all probability
quite unknown either to them or to western nations, the
appearance in their natural histories of strange fishes is less
to be wondered at than is that of beasts and birds. If Western-
ers have their mermaids, the Chinese have their mermen.
They are called Kiao-jen, and are found in the southern seas
where they are credited with the power to weave a beautiful
kind of silky fabric which when hung up in a house ensures
coolness to it no matter how torrid the weather may be out-
side. When this gentle creature weeps, its tears turn to
pearls. There is another species of the same kind of animal,

FABULOUS CREATURES. 231

but this is more like a turtle minus the feet. Its little ones
when alarmed take refuge in a pouch with which the mother
is provided. ;

There is a connexion, not entirely explained to man’s
full satisfaction even yet, between the jackal and the lion.
The smailer animal is sometimes called the “lion’s provider,”
but many people have a shrewd suspicion that most of the
providing is done by the larger, and that the jackal follows
only that he may partake of the crumbs from the royal
table. In China this relationship exists between a sort of
hermit crab and a shrimp. The crab rejoices in the name
of the Water Mirror, and wherever it goes the shrimp goes
with it, being in fact carried in the stomach of its big friend.
When the crab is hungry the shrimp issues forth to forage,
and when it has satisfied its hunger comes back again to its
living home. Ensconced there, the shrimp seems to supply
nourishment as freely to the crab as to itself. If it. should
happen that the shrimp is killed or unable to return, the
crab dies.

‘Other curious fish stories are those which tell of the
Indestructible Winkle, which though it may seem dead of
drought will revive on being put into vinegar; of the Sih-Sih
fish which has an appearance something like that of a mag-
pie with ten wings, and of the Ho-lo fish with one head
but ten bodies.

Snakes and other reptiles, even more than fish, would
be likely to lend themselves to the vivid imagination of an
ignorant country people. It is so in all lands, and of course
it is soin China, which is rich in reptilia. Thus we have the
Round Snake of Kwei-chow, which takes its name from
being egg-shaped, and so streaked and painted with five
different colours as to resemble a painted landscape. People
who see it, unless they know its deadly nature, are
irresistibly tempted to pick it up on account of its beauty,
thinking it to be merely a beautiful stone. But with the
warmth of the body the creature becomes lively, and puts
out its head. Then is the danger, for he who is bitten dies.
The poison is so virulent that if any of it is spilt on the
ground no grass will grow near the place for three years,
and all that is necessary to poison arrows effectually is to
stick them in the soil there.

Then there is the Square Snake of Kiangsi, which takes
the shape of a trunk, squirts an inky fluid at people, and so
kills them at once.

Still more marvellous is the Splitter. In England there
is a belief not unlike that of the Chinese in this respect.
Some English country people probably hold to this day that
a snake when cut to pieces has sometimes the power of

232 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

reuniting itself. This is the Chinese story: the splitter has
a length of about fourteen inches and the circumference of
a copper-cash, say about the size of a halfpenny. Ifa man
comes near ‘it, it leaps into the air, and coming down to
earth again divides into twelve pieces. (These stories are
always precise in detail.) If the man should be so incau-
tious as to pick up one of these segments a head grows out
from either end of it, the man is bitten, and inevitably dies.
Should he be wary enough to leave so uncanny a creature
to itself, the segments afterwards unite again.

Southern China and Annam can boast possession of the
wonderful snake known as the Caller, or Calling Snake.
Lonely travellers will hear it sometimes crying out,
“Where are you from, and where are you going to?” If
the man answers, the snake will follow him for several tens
of li, and will sneak into his hotel when he reaches it in the
evening. But as it invariably carries with it a very offensive
smell, the inn-keeper seems to know what to expect. So he
asks the traveller, “Did you hear any voice calling to you on
the way?” The traveller answers, “Yes.” Then the inn-keeper
knows exactly what has happened and what to do. He
takes a Wu-kung, a sort of flying centipede, and puts it in a

box near the traveller’s pillow. In the night, when the of-
' fensive smell shows that the caller is approaching, they open
the box and the centipede bounces out, attacks the snake,
gives it one bite, and kills it. Should a caller escape this
dreadful fate—the penalty of coveting forbidden prey—he
may live a very long time, during which period his body
grows until it. is several thousand catties in weight, after
which, if he is killed his fat makes a lamp oil, which when
burning defies the wind to blow it out.

Burma and Cochin China have a human-faced snake with
the features of a pretty girl. There are two feet growing
out from under the neck and these have each five human-
looking fingers. If the captor cuts this snake in two it turns
instantly into a pretty girl complete. The male of the same
breed is said to be green in colour and to have along beard.
Its strength is such that it can coil round and killa tiger, but
it is afraid of the fox which attacks and eats it.

The last of the series is the Jan, or boa, of Kiung-
chow in the Island of Hainan. As we have seen, boas or
pythons are well known in Hongkong and in the south
of China generally, and it is not surprising to tind follk-
lore well supplied with stories of their immense strength.
size, and ferocity. The Jan is said to grow toa length
of several chang, the chang being in English measure
nearly 12 ft. This species is reputed to have a liking’ for
young damsels whom it follows. Knowing this, hunters

FABULOUS CREATURES. 233

in search of it disguise themselves with flowers in their
hair, and call as they go, “Hung niang-tsz,” « pet name
for a pretty girl. When the snake appears, they throw
some female garments over it, whereupon it lies still. The
hunters taking advantage of its quietude, rapidly chop off its
head, andthenrunaway. The death struggles of the monster
are terrible to behold. It leaps about and levels everything
in its way, even trees being torn up in its struggles.

There is, as we have been told by Dr. Edkins, a
characteristic trait to be observed in all Chinese symbolism,
in that connected with animals no less than that connected
with trees, numbers, philosophy and other things. Whilst
that of the ancient Hebrews was directed to the future, that
of China looks backward to the past. But men of the present
day, withthe spectacle of a promised regeneration of China
before their eyes, may well ask whether the Chinese also
have not now definitely turned their faces towards the time
to come, and not towards the time that is gone. The
question is, perhaps, the most momentous ever put before
the human race. Time alone can answer it.

APPENDIX.

APPENDIX,
The Big Game of Western China.

Whilst sportsmen have turned their attention to most
parts of the globe, and in pursuit of big game have penetrated
into the uttermost parts of Africa, throughout North America,
the Indian Empire, Kashmir, Burma and the Malay States,
China has for several reasons remained almost a terra
incognita to the hunter, who can rarely give first hand
information, if any, concerning the game to be found in the
west of the Middle Kingdom. Indeed there are vast tracts,
and perhaps will always be vast tracts, in the centre of this
wonderful old continent which can be visited only by a few,
and those not on pleasure bent. The enormous distances to
be traversed and the difficulties of travel, the attitude of the
Government in the past, and the considerable expense and
time involved, have all contributed to deter sportsmen from
roaming over ‘the country, and it may be interesting therefore
to say something of the big game which is to be found in
these mountains which have few attractions to any but those
who go there for purposes other than pleasure. And first a
few words about the physical features of the far west, which
of course, in topographical details, varies considerably.

From the high plateau region of .Koko-Nor province (a
part of Amdoa, Outer Tibet) there stretches eastwards
through Kansu, Shensi, and thence into Honan a high range
of mountains, known i in Kansu as the Pe-ling, and east of
that province as the Sin-ling range; and this forms the
natural barrierbetween northern and southern China,between
the basin of the Yellow River and the Yangtze which it
separates for several hundred miles. To the south, forming
a natural division between the provinces of Kansu and
Shensi in the north and Szechwan in the south, a second
rather lower range extends eastward from the plateau,
becoming broken up in the province of Hupeh. Both these
ridges rise to considerably greater altitudes in the west,
where they strike off from the plateau, than further east, and

they are also far more thickly forested as one reaches their
western limits. Decreasing in height and extent as they
stretch. eastwards, they eventually fray out and descend
gradually into the eastern plain. ‘Still further south, in

238 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

Szechwan, several high mountain chains bend round and
run parallel to one another in a north and south direction,
forming the complicated mountain system of the Mantze
country. These various ranges of mountains are inhabited
by numerous kinds of big game or medium sized game, but
it must be borne in miad that even when the mountains have
been reached, their enormous extent, the difficulties of
supply ard transport, and the frequent impossibility of
obtaining accurate information locally, make hunting trips a
considerable enterprise and involve them in no little expense.
Nevertheless, given sufficient time in one locality, thus
enabling the hunter to cover plenty of ground and become
thoroughly acquained with the district, there is no doubt
that any amount of good shooting is to be obtained in western
China. In the Sin-ling mountains west of Sian-fu were
leopard (Felis pardus) third in point of size in the cat tribe,
and hog (Sus species). The leopard of course, like all the
cat tribe, is a nocturnal animal, and therefore not commonly
met with. However, it has an extensive range throughout
the mountainous regions of China, and we heard stories
of its depredations everywhere, for it inspires a wholesome
dread in the native mind. Moreover, in the big cities of the
west, splendid skins may always be bought for eight or ten
taels apiece, those being specially prized in which the black
markings formcomplete rings (an uncommon occurrence) and
thecentral areolaisof a shadedifferentfrom that ofthe ground
colour. Unfortunately the Chinese are blind to the beauties
of completeness and even to the advantage of conforming
reasonably to the canons of zoology: after skinning the entire
animal out through the mouth, under the foolish impression
that it is better to wrench the skin altogether out of shape
rather than cut it anywhere, they then proceed to contradict
themselves by cutting off the claws, as being mere useless
appendages, and mutilating the heads; moreover as they
frequently neglect to remove the tail bones, the fur is very
apt to come out of the tail, and the skins are, on the whole,
very imperfect. A few days north of Kin-tsi-kuan, on the
Tan river, whilst working at a small mountain village, a
leopard was brought in to us. It had recently descended
from the mountains and killed a lamb, leaving half the
carcass for another time; whereupon the shepherds promptly
poisoned it against his majesty’s return. The leopard duly
returned to finish his repast, unsuspiciously began again
upon the carcass, now liberally spread with arsenic, and
quietly died. It does not sound a very sporting way of
dealing with the vicious beast, but naturally the natives are
more concerned with their flocks than with sport. Not
long afterwards we were working at a lovely spot just

THE BIG GAME OF WESTERN CHINA. 239

under the ridge which forms the actual watershed, in this
neighbourhood, between the Yellow River and the Yangtze.
At nine o’clock one brilliant night, just as we were turning in
to bed, a man rushed out of his hut on the other side of the
valley, about a hundred yards distant, screaming at the top
of his voice, “Big leopard! Big leopard!” We tumbled
out as quickly as possible, but the moon was hardly up, and
not knowing which way the animal had gone, we were ata
loss: moreover he had had a few minutes start, which by
itself was sufficient to have given him time to slip back into
the mountains unobserved. It appeared that the man, who
kept his pig in a pen just outside the door, and not, as is
usually the case, in his room, heard the pig squealing in
a most heart-breaking manner, and had rushed out in time
to see the leopard putting his paw between the doors of the
pen; and such a surprising noise did he make, that the
animal had at once slunk off abashed. Though the man was
in reality nearly scared out of his wits, whether on his own
behalf or for the safety of his bacon, and rushing blindly to
us for aid, knowing our business, one cannot but admire his
pluck in thus coming out unarmed at night to the rescue of
the unfortunate pig; the leopard, though by no means brave,
is certainly an extremely savage animal, though, like the
shark and other ferocious beasts, he seems to be scared at
alittle bluster, and will retreat rather than investigate a
novelty. The man was quite sure this marauder would come
back, however, so I agreed to take a rifle and lie in wait, for
it was a magnificent moonlight night, though bitterly cold. I
lay in ambush, guarding that wretched pig and awaiting
the proud moment when I should shoot a leopard, till 2 a.m.,
by which time I was stiff with cold, for there was something
like 15 degrees of frost out in the open; but no leopard came.
‘So I turned back and wentto bed fervently blessing the old
man, leopards in general, and pigsin particular. I have notshot
a leopardyet. The common leopard extends over the greater
part of mountainous Asia, and though the Tibetanson the Kansu
border always have their sheepskin coats lined witha strip of
leopard put along the edge, the Chinese do not seem to
make use of the skins for clothing. Most of the leopard skins
sold in Western China, at Tow-chow, Chengtu, Tatsienlu, and
other big trading centres, come from Tibet, for the Chinese,
besides not being great hunters, are, as a rule, prodigiously
afraid of the animal, which in many parts is a continual
‘source of danger to the flocks. Parties of hunters occasion-
ally sally forth to exterminate a particularly bold depredator,
and at one place where we stayed in southern Kansu, two
men had recently come to grief trying to bring the local
leopard to book, for he had without warning sprung out on

240 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

them from the bushes, and mauled them so badly that one
subsequently died. Black leopards occur—a mere variety
of the ordinary spotted one, in fact a simple case of melanism,.
but I never saw the skin of such a one out in the west. In
Tatsienlu however, we saw a single skin of the snow leopard
(Felis uncia) of the central Asian plateau, and it had doubt-
fess come from the Mantze mountains. It is certainly a
most handsome animal. The Sin-ling range east of Sian-fu
consists of rounded water-worn peaks, not above 7,000
feet in altitude, with deep but comparatively wide valleys
between. The lower mountain slopes are extremely
barren, save here and there where ancestral graves had
determined the salvation of a few clumps of conifers :
for the most part they supported a grassy vegetation
only, and were scarcely cultivated, though maize apparently
requires so little depth of earth that it can be grown on
almost any hillside however steep. The summits of these
mountains, however, from 6,000 to 7,000 feet high, were
crowned with a dense scrub of deciduous trees—oak, willow,
hazel, chestnut and the like—which in summer must form
an impenetrable bush from ten to fifteen feet in height. Here
were to be found large “sounders” of wild hdg, which never,
at least inwinter, extend above the limits of cultivation, so that
they can be conveniently hunted from headquarters in the
valley. Whether it is the European or the Indian hog (an
almost identical species or an entirely different species)
does not seem very certain, for the genus Sus is considerably
involved. In any case the animal ranges all through Shensi
and Kansu, and right away south into Szechwan, being.
commonly met with on Omi-san and the neighbouring
mountains bordering the Lolo country. A female, weighing
between three and four hundred pounds, was shot near
Tai-pei-san in January, this being the only one of a number:
seen which we secured. Around Tai-pei they did not seem
to extend above 8,000 feet nor below 4,000 feet, and could be
followed for miles along the summits of the tree clad ridges.
by means of their lairs and rootings. This was the last we
saw of them, though I came across fresh tracks near the
summit of Omi-san, seven months later. In summer, when
the hogs come down amongst the crops, they do an immense
amount of damage, and it is customary to build shelters in
their neighbourhood, and watch them night and day, beating
gongs and firing off crackers when they approach; at that
season it is of course difficult to see them, though they are-
by no means stealthy animals. The Chinese do not seem to
hunt even the objectionable wild hog extensively however,
and only one skin was ever shown to us; domestic hogs are
so common, and so cheaply fed—or starved—that it is.

THE BIG GAME OF WESTERN CHINA, 241

probably not worth the trouble in spite of the damage
they cause, though raiding parties occasionally attempt to
exterminate them locally, with little success of course.
Curiously enough, we came across no deer in our first
Journey over the Sin-ling range, though west of Sian they
are plentiful. Foxes were common, but wolves are only
occasionally meet with in these parts, and there is hardly
sufficient cover for anything else.

Crossing the plain after passing through Sian-fu, we
kept on a south-westerly course in order to get back to the
Sin-ling range, as near to Tai-pei-san as possible; for we had
heard the mountains of that neighbourhood well spoken of
as a hunting centre. Two days west of the capital bird life
became extraordinarily abundant in the rice lands, cranes,
swan, herons, bustard, geese, mallard and teal being met
with in immense flocks; naturally, however, there is no cover
in this cultivated region, so that we could not expect to
find big game here. Hares there were, springing up from
behind almost any grassy grave mound one chose to
investigate, and occasionally afox orawolf. These latter lay
hidden in the stony water-courses, now dry, which frequently
interrupted the continuity ofthe loess as we drew nearer to the
mountains; by day they slept, vigilant nevertheless, wandering
forth after nightfall to attack some lonely farm house. The
Chinese wolf, which is identical with the species inhabiting
Europe and North America (Canis lupus), this animal being
in fact circumpolar in distribution, differs from the forest
wolf of Siberian and Canadian forests in being far less
gregarious; the wolves of China hunt singly or in couples,
never in packs. Ionce saw three together early one January
morning, calmly trotting in single file up the valley to the
mountains after a night's raid, but that was probably quite
exceptional. The wolf is extremely common in parts of
Shensi and Shansi, and in time of famine becomes particularly
fierce and desperate. It is quite a common event for two of
them to enter a village, approach the first house, sneak
inside as soon as the women have turned their backs, and
take the baby from the kang: in the same way children playing
in front of the doorway are sometimes snatched up and
made off with under their parents’ eyes. Thus we came
across a man with the lower part of his face missing on one
side, and were informed that he had been bitten by a wolf
when he wasachild. Dogs, numerous as they usually are
in a Chinese village, are almost useless on these occasions, as
the native wonk is a rank coward, always afraid to take the
initiative in attack; moreover he seems quite incapable of
acting in concert with his fellows. In Kansu we saw a
rather curious instance of this. Early one morning, whilst

242 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

on the road, we observed a large wolf suddenly start out of
a side valley, where several labourers were at work. and
lope up the hillside behind; whereupon being observed by
the men, three dogs were at once dispatched in pursuit.
Unfortunately one of them easily outstripped the other two
and the wolf as well, and cutting across so as to intercept
him, must inevitably have stopped him and made him give
battle, whilst a minute’s delay would have been ample to
allow the other two dogs to come up and join in. But just
as the attack seemed imminent, the wolf turned, and with a
snarl bared his teeth; the pursuer at once became the fugitive.
and after that there was no possibility of the dogs’ doing
anything. The wolf now trotted slowly over the hill with
his tail between his legs, and the dogs thenceforth kept
discreetly in the rear, trying to appear brave and ready for
the combat, whilst showing the white feather as soon as he
made even a feint at turning on them. Eventually he stopped
on the brow of the hill, sat on his haunches facing his
tormentors, and contemplated his escape for a few minutes
before disappearing; but even now the dogs were much too
scared to rush in together, though the wolf would have stood
little chance against the three of them. We saw the whole
scene very plainly, for we were within fifty yards of the wolf
when he first got up. We put up three other wolves on
various occasions, and in each case singly. In some parts
every district seems to be saddled with its old man of the
sea in the shape of its own local wolf, of which the inhabitants
are prodigiously afraid. The common wolf varies con-
siderably even in the same regions ofits extensive distribution,
and a variety of five skins may be bought in the interior for
from three to five taels each. They are tawny in their general
ground colour, never grey, frequently with black ears.

Four days’ march west of Sian we struck a pass over
the Sin-ling, and after climbing all day, found ourselves in
the heart of the mountains again, the country here being
particularly wild, the mountain tops thinly forested. The
trail had been very narrow in many places, passing between
high rocks and fallen boulders, and frequently rendered very
treacherous where streams had come down across the trail
and frozen to solid ice slopes; it was Boxing Day, and the
weather had turned bitterly cold. However the mountains
looked splendid for big game, and at the end of a weary day
we were congratulating ourselves, when news was brought
that the mules had turned back to the starting point, having
found the route impassable. This was not cheerful, and we
struggled back in five hours, darkness falling long before we
reached the inn, cold and bruised from many atumble on the
icy trail. However there was nothing for it and we took to the

THE BIG GAME OF WESTERN CHINA. 243

plain again next day, finding a second pass two days’ march to
the west. This appeared more encouraging, for we struck up
a fair-sized valley, and on the second day reached the small
village of Ling-t’ai-miao at the foot of Tai-pei-san itself.
Here was an ideal spot for our purpose. The village stood
about 3,000 feet above sea level, and the valley was bounded
by grassy hills rising some four or five thousand feet higher.
Behind lay the Tai-pei-san range, separated by another deep
valley, and upon these mountains were dense forests of
deciduous trees——willows, birches, hazels, and many others,
giving place towards the summit to Conifers alone, and
those more or less dwarfed by the prevailing winds which
howl across the summit of Tai-pei. On the lower hills, wild
hog, already referred to, were common, and the small “grass-
deer”, to translate the Chinese name literally, were abundant.
This deer was originally found inthe mountains of northern
China during the course of the Duke of Bedford’s Explor-
ation of Eastern Asia, and has been named Capfriolus Bedfordi,
in honour of the President of ‘the Zoological Society. It is
a small animal, standing not more than three feet high at
the shoulder; the tail is rather shorter than usual, and the
antlers (at this season in the velvet) small and three-pointed.
Like most deer this species is gregarious, but we rarely saw
more than a pair together. The species does not seem to
extend above 8,000 feet, at least in the winter, though it some-
times descends right down into the valleys. Its usual habitat
however is the grassy hill tops and thickets. When disturbed
it utters a short sharp bark, very like that of a gruff dog,
but these creatures were so tame that it was easy to approach
within a range of a hundred yards, and the firing of a rifle
had no effect on them whatever—except of course when a
bullet found its billet. Consequently one could lie down
and pump a magazine-full of lead at them, whilst they stood
there staring; even when they did start off, they never ran
far, but soon halted and continued to stare. Evidently they:
know well that the native weapon is not usually discharged at
a range of more than 30 yards, and a magazine rifle firing soft-
nosed bullets at a range of 2,000 yards is still quite a novelty
tothem. This Capriolus was even more common to the south-
east of Min-chow in Kansu, then in the neighbour-hood of Tai-
pei; but after the middle of April we saw no more of them.
Another common animal on these mountains is the
diminutive musk-deer (Woschus sifanicus), though we
never saw one, and only obtained a single specimen
from the mountains south of the Tow river, on the Tibet
border. However we came across its neat little tracks
everywhere in the snow, and frequently met with the traps
which the native hunters set for them—a noose arranged to

244 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

fly up and take the animal by the leg as soon as he breaks a
string stretched across his path. The musk-deer stands less
than two feet high at the shoulder, and is devoid of horns (a
peculiarity amongst deer which it shares with the water-
deer of the Yangtze, Hydropotes inermis) the male bearing
instead a pair of sharp tusks, often as much as three inches
in length—a second peculiarity which it shares with
the Hydropotes. Another external peculiarity in the male is
the musk-sac, a gland in the skin of the abdomen, which
when dried yields commercial musk, a valuable medicine
alike to Tibetans and Chinese, selling for almost its weight
in silver in the cities. It is said that the musk deer knows
for what it is persecuted, and that when brought to bay, it
will turn its head and rip open its own musk-sac with its
long teeth. The musk deer extends down into Szechwan
also, but keeps altogether to higher altitudes than Cafriolus
Bedfordi—not less than 8000 feet even in winter. The third
species of deer met with was David's deer, Chinese ma-lo or
“horse deer” of the Tibet border and Manchuria. The official
title is Cervus Davidianus, and he is by far the handsomest
of the Chinese deer. David’s deer inhabits the high moutains
all the way up the Tibet border, ranging between 10,000 and
14,000 feet or even less. He stands quite four feet high at.
the shoulder, and has an unusually long tail; the hair
soft and thick, untformly dark above; and a_ technical
peculiarity distinguishes the horns of this species from
all other Asiatic representatives. The horns are much
prized for medicine by the Chinese, not indeed in the districts
where the animal is known (it is the old story of the prophet
in his own country) but in places like Canton were they have
never seen such an uncouth object as adeer’s antler before:
so that its efficacy presumably lies in its novelty, and in the
ignorance which it consequently puddles for the moment.
We met half a dozen mule loads of these patent medicines
coming down from Sining, where the ma-/o is abundant. The
animal is by no means easy to stalk, for he is extremely
vigilant, and runs at a tremendous pace. We frequently
saw them in batches of three or even four together, but failed
to secure a specimen. This was inthe Fen-tsi country south
of the Tow river; there were none around Tai-pei-san—one
has to go much further west. The ma-lo is a favourite in
captivity, and the native princes are fond of keeping them.
though they never become very tame. The Prince of Choni
however had one which would eat out of my hand and even
let me pat its neck (under protest) and the King of Kia-la.
who resides at Tatsienlu, had three of them, though these
were rather fierce animals, and were kept tied up. There
are also several in the Imperial Hunting Park, Peking.

THE BIG GAME OF WESTERN CHINA, 245

, Bears are by no means rare in the western parts of the
Sin-ling range, and in the Pe-ling right away into Tibet.-
They occur throughout the parallel ranges of Szechwan,
down into Yunnan, and shortly one may say throughout the
mountains of Western China and the Central Asian plateau,
becoming more plentiful in the most desolate regions. They
are of course not easily found, since they hibernate during
the winter and in summer keep to the most thickly forested
country, or to the bleakest plateau land: so that there was no
chance of our meeting: with a bear on Tai-pei-san, though
the hunters told us they were found there, and we promised
them untold wealth to unearth one. The black bear referred
to by the natives is probably the Himalayan bear, or a
variety of it (Ursus torquatus), since they spoke of white on
the breast and paws; but the common brown bear of Europe
and Asia is almost certainly to be found here (Ursus arctos)
having a wide and probably continuous distribution over the
mountainous regions of Eurasia north of the Himalaya, from
the British Isles (where of course it is now extinct) to
Kamschatka. Bears do not seem to be sufficiently common
in China proper to cause extensive damage to crops, and
this no doubt accounts for the fact that the native hunters
do not eagerly seek out the animal to destroy it; I do not
remember to have seen a single skin for sale. In Kansu we
heard of two intrepid.hunters who had gone after one for the
sake of its skin, and one of them had been rather badly
mauled only a couple of days before our arrival in the
district. One of the consuls in Chengtu had also shot one,
in the Sung-pan district; but generally speaking, though
widely distributed they are not often met with, and one néeds
to go a long way west for them, though the black bear does
not occur at all in Tibet, and the one frequently referred to
by Tibetan travellers is presumably the brown bear.

The Tai-pei massif consists of a long ridge trending
roughly north-east and south-west, across the main axis of
the Sin-ling range, terminating on either flank in tremendous
precipices; from the top, one could look straight down into
the defiles below, but there was no way of reaching them
from above except by way of one or two precipitous gutlies
jammed full of angular granite blocks of scree material
fallen from above, for, so far as I was able to observe, the
mountain seemed to be composed of limestone capped with
granite, or some such coarse-grained igneous rock. Given
off from the main ridge was a number of spurs, their summits
hewn into strange aiguilles and pinnacles, and these dropped
abruptly away sheer into the gullies below in huge bare walls
of limestone. Firs and larches clung amongst the rocks of the
knife-like ridges, and covered the summits of the mountains

246 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

together with a thick undergrowth of juniper bushes. The
less abrupt slopes and hollows at lower altitudes were clothed
with a dense tangle of shrubs and trees, conspicuous amongst
which were the copper birch, willows, rose bushes, and many
others; whilst the gullies supported ledges of turf and clumps
of bamboo wherever they could find foothold. Everything
above seven thousand feet was now, in January, under snow
which, on the summit, was quite a foot deep, and two or three
times that depth in the drifts. Consequently progress up the
steep- slopes, especially where the.snow had been stamped
hard by wood-cutters and hunters, was extremely slow,
though coming down was distinctly rapid, and often ended
in one’s being rolled in the snow. The gullies too, where the
crevices betweenthe slippery blocks ofstonehad been covered
with a thin coating of snow were treacherous. Nevertheless
in the intervals between the snowstorms, the weather was
magnificent, and though the wind blowing up the gullies of
Tai-pei, particularly at night, was one of those trials of
endurance one does not want to experience twice 1n a life-
time if one can help it, yet big-game hunting over these
rugged peaks was interesting enough. However, I should
recommend the autumn for a similar trip to other aspirants,
as it is necessary to camp out in a cave during such a hunting
trip, on account of the extent of territory to be covered.
Perhaps one of the rarest animals which lurked amongst
these rock strewn forests and precipices—for they usually go
about alone or in pairs, was a kind of antelope, which however.
except for its longer tail, is more like a goat in appearance
and proportions. This is the goral (genus Cemads), a
ruminant ranging from the outer spurs of the Himalayas to
eastern Tibet, northern China(via the Sin-ling), and thence
to Amurland; but not very abundant anywhereexcept perhaps
in the Pamirs. There are several species, the Chinese one
being chiefly distinguished by its longer tail. It is a small
animal,not much bigger than the musk-deer—-say, twenty-eight
to thirty inches high at the shoulder, of a general dark grey
or brown hue above, with a darker stripe down the nape of
the neck and along the middle of the back. There is no beard
and the horns are short and simple, more like those of a
chamois than of a goat, except that the tip is not curved back:
they are not above six inches long, and are concentrically
ribbed. The gorals, in fact, to some extent connect the goats
with the antelopes. We saw one of these animals amongst the
trees, perhaps a thousand yards distant, but as we were near
the summit of one spur and he was almost at the foot of the
next, separated by a chasm several hundred feet deep, there
was little chance of getting him, or even of getting a shot at
him. The native hunters, however, spent some days in pursuit

THE BIG GAME OF WESTERN CHINA. 247

of these rock scramblers for us, and, as illustrating the
extreme inaccessibility of the crags these animals frequent,
of three specimens shot, they were only able to recover one,
and he had broken one of his horns and several bones in a
severe fall. The goral in fact, when pursued, seems to
delight in climbing to the summit of the most acicular
pinnacle to hand, as though determined not to be captured
dead or alive. Otherwise he loves the grassy slopes and
Jedges amongst the screes and gullies.

Quite the most extraordinary animal met with in these
mountains isthetakin(genusBudorcas),aheavily builtandcom-
paratively large animal, standing not less than three anda half
feet high at the shoulder. Its rather thick matted hair is tawny
in colour (at least in the Shensi species), rather long, as in the
yak (though not so long as that,) and coarse in texture. The
big black horns rise close together, and growing out
horizontally, turn straight backwards in the same plane.
The face is curiously shaped, and the thick lips and enormous
nostrils give the animal a most grotesque appearance. The
Budorcas is easily recognized amongst bovine ruminants by
the extremely short goat-like tail, and short sturdily built
legs supporting the big, heavy body. It goes about in large
herds of twenty or thirty, or even more, though stray animals
or odd pairs are occasionally’ met with. Not the least
remarkable characterstics of the animal are its extra-
ordinary agility on the snow-covered screes, and a wonderful
vitality. The ponderous beast, as I was able to observe for
myself when a herd we had tracked was fired into, is as
sure-footed as a goat, and scrambles down the steepest places
with marvellous rapidity. As for its vitality, the hunters
had a great story to tell of how they had “killed” an animal
stone dead with about four bullets in him one evening, and
Jeft him lying on the snow overnight; on returning for him
next morning, however, they were astonished to find that he
had cleared off under cover of darkness, having meanwhile
completely recovered from his quite temporary indisposition
—perhaps a piece of realistic foxing to stay further pellets.
Consequently it is now the practice amongst these hunters
to tie the animal down if he is going to be left for the night.
so that if he should come to life again, he will not be able
to get away. Unfortunately I am not able to give many
details about the habits of these animals since we only had
a view of the herd which we were pursuing for about five
minutes, after a long day spent in tracking it. The only
animal that was hit received a soft nosed bullet somewhere
in the back at a range of abouta hundred and fifty yards; he
doubled up, slid down, lay on his back with his legs beating
the air wildly, rolled over, got up, and—ran away! We

248 WILD LIFE IN CHINA,

followed the blood marks in the snow for some distance.
but the wounded animal got clean away with the rest of the
herd. The Budorcas cannot however bea difficult animal
to hunt, for the native hunters, who can do practically no
execution at a range of more than forty yards, shot numbers
of them, and they shot three stray specimens for us. Our
largest male scaled somewhere between four and five
hundred pounds, and it took three of us over three hours’
work simply to rip the skin off him. The distribution of this
curious ruminant seems to be discontinuous, or at least it is
very local; the Shensi hunters declared that it was confined
to Tai-pei-san, but such is not the case with the genus at
any rate, though it is possible that the Shensi species is
distinct from that found much further west. We did not
again hear of the animal till we reached the high limestone
ranges of south western Kansu, and here the Budorcas was
described as a piebald or mottled animal. It is fairly common
in some parts of southern and western Szechwan also, and
the American Consul at Chung-king was credited with having
been the first man to buy a specimen from the natives and
claim to have shot it himself. No doubt our three specimens
will shed a little more light on the affinities ef this obscure
animal, though they can hardly add to our knowledge of its
habits and mode of life.

Over the crest of the watershed, a day's march beyond
the village of Ling-t’ai-miao, the rugged peaks and screes
which typify the Tai-pei-san ridge cease, and we travel for
several days through deep limestone gorges, the cliffs
towering so high above us that in many places it is impossible
to obtain any idea of the mountains behind. The civet cat
seemed to be particularly abundant in these regions, judging
by the number of skins brought to us. The natives know it,
in these parts at any rate, by the extraordinary name of
“nine jointed donkey,” on account of the nine rings,
alternately black and white, with which the tail is marked:
though where the resemblance to a donkey is derived from
would puzzle most people. The wild cat is also comparatively
common in these mountains, though it is of no particular
interest beyond showing the extreme limits in variation to
which a species can run. One day the natives brought in a
badger, which for some reason had wandered out of his
winter quarters, and being doubtless sluggish in his move-
ments consequent upona prolonged slumber, was killed by
the men. The Hanchong plain to the south of the Sin-ling
was less stocked with game than the Sian plain had been,
though cranes and bustard were abundant: and right up
through Kansu, we came across nothing new till we reached
Choni, on the borders of the Tibetan territory, though the

THE BIG GAME OF WESTERN CHINA. 249

small “ grass-deer,” wolves, and foxes were common locally.
Around Choni, however, to the south of the Tow river,
which forms a very natural geographical as well as physical
barrier between China and Tibet, .the aspect of the country
changed entirely. Here were high mountains rising tier
beyond tier till they gradually topped the snow line at perhaps
18,000 feet, where the Pei-ling range itself rose up like a wall
of rock. The north slopes of these mountains were covered
with fir forests, though the exposed Southern slopes were too
dry to support tree growth. Towards the heads of the
tributary valleys the streams bored through magnificent
gorges, for the mountains were built up mainly of limestone
(on a base of metamorphic racks) which showed up in
wonderful cliffs and towers. Higher up in the Fen-tsi
country beyond the rim of the grass plateau, the Tow itself
flowed between high forested cliffs of metamorphic rocks
which had been buckledand crumpledin a most extraordinary
way by colossal subterranean forces. All was now under
snow, and amore beautiful sight than these great mountains
with the sweeps of fir trees daintily festooned with dazzling
streamers of snow, the gaunt cliffs and towers of limestone
rising behind, and the grey ribbon of water crashing between
its ice-choked banks, it would be difficult to imagine. In the
lower, warmer valleys not above 10,000 feet were the ma-lo
or “horse-deer” (Cervus Davidianus) already referred to.
They kept clear of the forests, wandering over the grass-
covered hills and keeping a sharp look-out. We saw three
together one morning, but as they saw us as soon as we saw
them, they were scampering up the hillside as soon as we
located them, and one might as well try to catch up with a
race horse as witha ma-lo. On another occasion we saw
five in a bunch at fairly close quarters; that was in the
thickets, but we hadn’t a gun, and they couldn’t wait.

The most enigmatical animal of these forested mountains
was one of which we were shown the photograph by a mission-
ary in Tow-chow;he had shotit himselfa coupleof years pre-
viously, but was unable to tell us what it was; and with only a
photograph to go upon, I can furnish but meagre information
for purposes of} identification, nor have I any more idea now
than I had then as to what the beast really is. It may be
described as a maned goat, the long mane being indeed the
most conspicuous and extraordinary characteristic of the
animal; perhaps the size of the goral already spoken of, or
rather smaller, with short horns, projecting straight upwards
and backwards as in that animal—a hollow-horned ruminant
anyhow. Its colour appeared to be black and white and its
hair was distinctly long even for a goat. The animal is by
no means common I believe, and I Have failed to identify it

250 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

from the few notes! have,so that it is not necessary to do mere
than mention it here. Above 14,000 feet, in the regions of
the great limestone precipices, above the limit of tree growth,
out on the wind-swept grass-covered mountain tops, lived the
precipice sheep: and few animals are better game, or more
difficult to shoot than these sheep of the Tibet border country.
From the foot of a precipice perhaps 500 feet high we looked
up to the summit one day, and saw one.of these sheep peering
over the summit of the ridge; his magnificent curved horns
were plainly silhouetted against the sky-line. Again ona
steeply sloping grassland scree (now of course under a foot
or more of snow) we came across a bunch of them,
but on seeing us several hundred yards distant. they
bolted up the slope to the jagged crest of the ridge
and were soon dispersed and lost amongst the crags.
Three days we spent hunting these sheep, floundering knee-
deep through the snow drifts up on the summits of these
mountains, toiling up the long valleys, wading half-frozen
streams, plunging through forests of fir and bush, ranging
in altitude from the valley where we were quartered at about
10,000 feet to beyond the tree belt at about 15,000 feet. And
this was in April, so that the summer must be brief in these
mountains. It is naturally difficult to say for certain what
this sheep is, since we did not obtain a specimen, but it is
quite possibly the Tibetan argali (Ovis Hodgsoni) which
inhabits the Tibetan plateau from the northern Ladak to the
districts northwards of Sikkim, and so, we may suppose,
eastwards through the northern parts of outer Tibet to the
geographical borders of western China. It prefers mountains
which expose an abundance of naked rock (such as limestone
mountains always do) but have their slopes more or less
forested: in summer, at least, it does not descend below
15,000 feeet, but the Tibetan hunters informed us that in the
winter they had been shot in close proximity to the village,
as low down as 12,000 feet. Nevertheless, with all their
skill, and with the advantage of spending days together up
in the mountains. the hunters do not shoot a great number
of these wary rock scramblers. The argali is one of the
largest sheep known, being comparable in size to a donkey.
A very closely-allied species—perhaps a mere variety,
inhabits Mongolia and parts of southern Siberia, so that
if the species described above is not the true O. Hodgsoni
of Tibet, it is likely to be an intermediate species,
linking O. Hodgsoni of Anterior Tibet to O. Ammon
of Mongolia; on the other hand, it may be observed
that for geographical considerations alone there is no
reason why the one species should not have a continuous
distribution from the’northern slopes of the Himalayas

THE BIG GAME OF WESTERN CHINA, 251

1

through the mountains of eastern Tibet to the Pe-ling and
Nan Shan ranges, and thence into Mongolia and Siberia.
Unfortunately, not having obtained a specimen we have no
proof for either assertion. It is fair to assume that bears
and other animals were to found in these wild mountains
in the summer, and that by penetrating a little farther in
towards the south west, we might have come across several
more species of precipice climbers. For the extent of un-
inhabited and uninhabitable country in these regions, and
the diversity of topographical features, must be seen to be
believed. Away from the Tow river however, in a direction
north-west from Tow-chow, the scene changes entirely, for
here the edge of the great grassland plateau which stretches
westwards in an unbroken succession of rolling steppes for
hundreds of miles, is reached. This plateau, in winter at
least, is the abomination of desolation, a wind-swept treeless
land of extreme temperatures, scorched by the summer sun,
frozen under the driving snowstorms for five months in the
year. Here the marmot (Marmotes species) and the Tibetan
hare—a beautiful little siver-grey fellow—scampered about
amongst their burrows which honey-combed the hillsides,
and a species of antelope (presumably a gazelle) wandered
in considerable herds, often twenty or more together, over
the barren steppes. We shot one antelope, a small russet-
brown creature not much bigger than the musk-deer, but
unfortunately it was a female, and therefore hornless. It is
quite likely, however, that the aminal will prove to be the
goa or Tibetan gazelle (Gazella picticaudata), but of this I
cannot be certain.

Curiously enough, after 21st April, on which date we left
Min-chow for the south, passing abruptly from winter into
summer with scarcely a break for spring, we saw no wild
animal larger than a fair-sized monkey. Not that there was
no big game in the mountains of the south, but rather that
considering the impenetrability of the vegetation, we thought
it scarcely worth while to spend the necessary time hunting,
and some of the most likely districts we were compelled to
pass through without stopping. I have sometimes wondered,
when reading of elephant hunting in equatorial Africa, how
the hunters are able to follow these animals through the
intricacies of the jungle, and come up with them after
perhaps several days’ chase; for in western China it seemed
impossible to find anything, let alone follow it in the thickets
which clothed the mountains during the summer. But on
consideration we may note several points of difference in
the two cases. I recall the jungles of Borneo, and on
comparing them with the dense “bush” of western Szechwan
note that whilst there is no comparison in the exuberance

252 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

and variety of the vegetation in the two cases, yet the former
is in reality the easier to penetrate, for the very reason that
that great development of the lofty vegetation in the one
case makes the interior of the forest so dark that the under-
growth has little chance to establish itself, and hence one
can usually see some yards ahead, and make fair progress ;
the solid wall of vegetation which the outside of a tropical
jungle presents is no index to the conditions inside. The
shrub vegetation of western China, however, attains no great
height, and though the absence of conspicuous trees is
probably in all cases due to human interference, yet in those
places where the forests still remain intact, undergrowth
and shrub prevail at the expense of trees. This “bush,”
averaging ten or twelve feet in height, is composed of small
trees and shfubs profusely entangled with creepers and
tilled in with a considerable herbaceous undergrowth which
here receives sufficient light to develop. Consequently it is
really more difficult to hunt big game through such a tangle
than through a tropical jungle, especially since the game is
likely to be considerably less bulky than that which inhabits
the forces of equatorial regions. On the other hand, were
one to devote all one’s time to it as does the ivory hunter,
no doubt one could hunt big game over these mountains
even in the summer: but it is as well to bear in mind that it
is necessary to force one’s way bodily through the “bush,” a
proceeding which is naturally rather noisy, and also that it is
impossible to see anything with any certainty ten yards ahead.
All things considered then, the summer is emphatically not
the season for big game hunting in western China; the tdeal
time is autumn, in the north at any rate, for the winters
there are extremely rigorous.

Passing through southern Kansu we stopped for some
days south of Pikow, at the edge of the limestone wall which
bars the way into what is geographically Tibet. This
magnificent country of huge bald cliffs alternating with
densely forested slopes harbours a good deal of genuine
big game—musk-deer, mountain-sheep, and Budorcas. all of
which I found the spoor of, besides several semi-fabulous
monsters which became known to us chiefly through local
tradition. The most curious of these possibly fictitious beasts,
which were spoken of quite seriously by the natives, was a
medium-sized animal with long red hair, which lived on
monkeys! (Incidentally this goes to show that there are
monkeys as far north as this in western China, thought they
probably do not extend north of the main watershed between
the Yangtze and the Yellow River.) But though the zoologist
may be inclined to scoff (I am inclined to think however that
no man with any real scientific knowledge and training would

THE BIG GAME OF WESTERN CHINA, 253

scoff) at native reports, yet as a matter of fact in almost
every case in which the hunters told us of the existence of
uncouth animals, they were able to make good their words,
much to the astonishment of our leader, who had apparently
never heard of any other wild animals than pigs and deer;
moreover, the traveller in far western China will be shown
skins that probably no zoologist in Europe could place, and
there was shown us at least a skin to bolster up the claim of
the monkey-eater to scientific recognition. Here then is a
magnificent chance for someone who has time and money,
not to mention skill and patience, to investigate the identity
of this curious animal, the existence of which Iam ready to
guarantee without upholding any of the popular stories as to
its habits. If it does really live on monkeys it is presumbly
an arboreal animal, and the name “sloth” comes instinctively
to one’s mind; but a carnivorous sloth would be a curiousity
indeed! Can it be agiant vampire? These ranges of south-
western Kansu and northern Szechwan stretching away to
the Great Snowy Mountains which form the rim of the
grassland plateau beyond Sung-pan, would repay close
investigation; but such investigation is naturally a con-
siderable undertaking in a country of such distances and
difficulty, for these forested mountains may be put down as
uninhabited for many hundreds of square miles. In one of
the rapid mountain rivers of northern Szechwan I saw
an otter swimming down with the current; it is astonishing
how long these animals can keep under water, and also how
they seem able to go through big rapids without material
damage, though they must be severely buffeted. This animal
dived at the least suspicious movement on my part, and
refused to come anywhere near the shore; like most
carnivorous animals, he did not care to be watched.

Though we actually saw only two wild animals of any
size in Szechwan, and those comparatively small, yet this is
undoubtedly one of the richest provinces in China for the
big-game hunter; Szechwan and Yunan are the mountainous
provinces par excelleuce. In the mountains above Tatsienlu
at an altitude of about 15,000 feet we came across a curious
wild dog of a foxy red colour, an inhabitant of the
rhododendron thickets, though it probably descends to
considerably lower elevations inthe winter, when all around
Tatsienlu is under snow. The animal was. sufficiently
unacquainted with man to remain watching within easy rifle
range, but refused to come within gunshot. In winter the
mountain-sheep come down the hillsides till they are visible
from the city, though in the summer one has to go some
distance for them. Another curious little animal of this
region is the “snow-pig” .(to translate the Chinese name

254 WILD LIFE IN CHINA.

literally), a name which, coming from a people who profess to
see a resemblance between a civet-cat and a donkey, conveys
little reliable information as to its true relationship ; and
what the animal is in more exact terms we failed to elicit.
We found the spoor of the mountain-sheep (or goat) of these
parts on several occasions, and two of these animals were
actually seen in the thickets, though we failed to come up
with them. The King of Kia-la, one of the tribal potentates
of Tatsienlu, kept three compartively tame ma-lo at his
summer palace, a few miles out of the city, and he also had
the skull of a Budorca on view, so that it is reasonable to
suppose, indeed the natives informed us, that this animal was
found locally or not above two days’ travel distant. It was
said to be piebald, hovever, the male and female being easily
distinguished, whereas our Shensi species were uniformly
tawny the male and female being similar, except in point
of size. The private autocrat referred to above kept a
regular menagerie and dogs’ home; beside the ma-lo he
had between twenty and thirty dogs, several birds, a
monkey, and one or two other creatures which combined to
make a visit to his place quite an exhilarating entertain-
ment. Did one go systematically through all the skins which
are on view in Tatsienlu, most of which come from the
mountains lying between this city and Batang, one
would doubtless come across some curiosities as well as
some rarities—the snow-leopard for example, to mention
only one.

Not far from Ya-chow, in south-western Szechwan,
is amost curious table-mountain which we unfortunately
had no time to visit, though we obtained a good view of it
from the summit of Omi-san, thirty or forty miles to the
east. Wa-wa-san, as it is called, is well forested, and is said
to be a great place for big Budorcas, hog deer, leopard and
other animals. Mr. Weiss, German Consul at Chengtu, had,
I believe, visited it, with highly successful results. Omi-
san itself boasts big game—I found any number of hog
tracks amongst the bush, at any rate, and leopards are
comparatively common in these regions. The sacred Omi
itself however, is probably too much in the public eye to be
very popular with such shy animals, and two peaks beyond,
known respectively as the second and third Omi, are more
likely hunting grounds. Tigers, though extremely rare, are
certainly to be found in western Szechwan, and we saw one
fine skin in the capital. Unfortunately, when one of these
beasts does appear, he attracts so much attention that:
he becomes a marked animal from that time on;
and though his greatest asset is the prodigious fear he
excites in the native mind, he is hunted down sooner or

THE BIG GAME OF WESTERN CHINA. 255.

later unless he removes himself out of the neighbourhood.
Undoubtedly the most interesting animals on Omi itself
were the monkeys, medium-sized tailless animals probably
belonging to the baboon family; there appeared to be
at least two species of them. In the summer they are
found on the cliffs and in the trees towards the summit
of the mountains at about 8,000 feet, though as the summit
is covered with snow for four or five months in the year,
they no doubt descend to lower levels in the winter. They
might be found in great troops of twenty or thirty, especially
after recent rain, but were very capricious in their move-
ments; sometimes we would not see onefora weekor more. All
animals on a sacred mountain like Omi are protected and
the tameness of these monkeys was quite wonderful. They
would sit within a few feet of you as you ascended the steps,
and steal the candles from the pilgrims who were coming up
the mountain to perform their religious ceremonies; indeed
the coolies had to watch theirloads carefully when the
monkeys were on the prowl. They had no fear of man, for
they were never molested; and thinking of the deer already
referred to, which only feared men in so far as they had been
taught to—that is within a range of a hundred yards or so,
being merely interested in his presence beyond that range,
there is food for reflexion upon the real attitude of wild
animals in general towards man.