Chapter 34 - The Plant Hunters by Mayne Reid

The Argus-Pheasant.

Caspar proceeded with increased caution. His design was to stalk the wild oxen; and he had left Fritz at the hut, as the dog could be of no use in that sort of hunting.

He intended to stalk the animals with more than ordinary caution, for two reasons. The first was, of course, in order to get a shot at them; but there was another reason why he should be careful, and that was, the fierce and dangerous nature of the game. He had not forgotten the way in which the old bull had behaved at their last interview; and Karl had particularly cautioned him, before setting out, to act prudently, and to keep out of the way of the bull’s horns. He was not to fire at the yaks, unless there was a tree near, or some other shelter, to which he could retreat if pursued by the bull.

The necessity, therefore, of choosing such a point of attack, would make his stalk all the more difficult.

He walked silently on, sometimes through spots of open ground; at others, traversing belts of woodland, or tracts of thickety jungle. Wherever there was a reach, or open space, he stopped before going out of the cover, and looked well before him. He had no wish to come plump on the game he was in search of, lest he might get too close to the old bull. Fifty or sixty yards was the distance he desired; and, with the large bullets his gun carried, he would have been near enough at that.

Several kinds of large birds flew up from his path, as he advanced; among others, the beautiful argus-pheasant, that almost rivals the peacock in the splendour of its plumage. These rare creatures would whirr upward, and alight among the branches of the trees overhead; and, strange to say, although nearly as large as peacocks, and of a most striking and singular form, Caspar could never get his eyes upon them after they had once perched.

It is the habit of these birds, when aware of the presence of the hunter, to remain perfectly silent and motionless, and it requires the keenest eyes to make them out among the leaves. In fact, the very beauty of their singular plumage, which makes the argus-pheasant so marked and attractive an object when side by side with other birds, is the very thing which, amid the foliage of trees, renders it so difficult to be seen. Ocellated as the bird is all over its body, wings, and tail, the general-effect is such as rather to conceal it. A disk of the same size of an unbroken colour, even though the tints be less brilliant, is far more likely to arrest the eye-glance. Besides, the collected foliage of the trees, when gazed at from beneath, presents a species of ocellation, to which that of the argus-pheasant is in some way assimilated. This may be a provision of nature, for the protection of this beautiful and otherwise helpless bird; for it is no great creature at a flight, with all its fine plumes; and, but for its power of thus concealing itself, would easily fall a prey to the sportsman.

Naturalists often, and, perhaps, oftener hunters, have noted this adaptation of the colour of wild animals to their haunts and habits. The jaguars, the leopards, and panthers, whose bright, yellow skins, beautifully spotted as they are, would seem to render them most conspicuous objects, are, in reality, the most difficult to be perceived amid the haunts which they inhabit. An animal of equal size, and of the dullest colouring, provided it were uniform, would be more easily seen than they. Their very beauty renders them invisible; since their numerous spots, interrupting the uniformity of colour, breaks up the large disk of their bodies into a hundred small ones, and even destroys, to the superficial glance, the form which would otherwise betray their presence.

For some such reason then the argus-pheasant is most difficult to be seen, when once settled on his perch among the leaves and twigs of the trees. But though himself not observed, he sees all that passes below. He is well named. Although the eyes all over his body be blind, he carries a pair in his head, that rival those of the famed watchman from whom he borrows his surname. He keeps the sportsman well in sight; and should the latter succeed in espying him, the argus knows well when he is discovered, and the moment a cock clicks or a barrel is poised upward, he is off with a loud whirr that causes the woods to ring.

But, as already stated, he is no great flyer. The smallness of the primary quills of his wing—as well as the unwieldy size of the secondaries, forms an impediment to his progress through the air, and his flight is short and heavy. He is a good runner, however, like all birds of his kind; and he passes rapidly over the ground, using his wings in running like the wild turkey, to which bird he is kindred. When the argus-pheasant is at rest or unexcited, his plumage is neither so bright nor beautiful. It is when showing himself off in the presence of his females that he appears to best advantage. Then he expands his spotted wings, and trails them on the ground in the same manner as the peacock. His tail, too, becomes spread and raised erect, whereas at other times it is carried in a line with the body with the two long feathers folded over each other.

The argus-pheasant (which closet-naturalists now say is not a pheasant, but an argus) is peculiar to the southern parts of Asia, though the limits of its range are not well understood. It is found in all parts of India, and also, as is supposed, in China, even in the northern provinces of that country.

But the argus is not the only beautiful pheasant of these regions. India, or rather southern Asia, is the true home of the pheasant tribe. Already nearly a dozen species of these birds, some of them far more beautiful than the birds of paradise, are known to naturalists; and when the ornithology of the Indian Islands has been thoroughly investigated, a still greater number will be found to exist there.

The Impeyan pheasant, larger than the common fowl, rivals the crested peacock in the brilliancy of its hues. No words can give any adequate idea of the splendour of this bird. Nearly the whole surface of its plumage is resplendent—dazzling with changing hues of green and steel-blue, of violet and gold. It looks as if its body was clothed in a scale armour of bright shining metal, while the plumage is soft and velvety to the touch. This magnificent bird is a native of the Himalaya Mountains; where is also found another splendid species, the peacock-pheasant of Thibet, the latter closely allied to a still more gorgeous bird, the crested polyplectron of the Moluccas.

One cannot look upon these lovely winged creatures without a feeling of gratitude to Him who sent them to adorn the earth, and give pleasure to all who may behold them.