if it can avoid it, rises when disturbed, but threads its way
under the fern and brushwood, up or down-hill, with equal facility.
As a rule, it keeps at elevations of from 5,000 to 8,000
feet. Dr. Stoliczka, I know, says it is generally found near the
limit of trees or close to the snows, i.e., between 12,000 and
14,000 feet ; but this is only because birds at this elevation,
where the undergrowth is scant, are easier seen and flushed ;
and if he bail had good dogs, he would have found twenty
l'euras below 8,000 for one above 10,000 feet.
I have shot numbers of these, most commonly in November,
when the undergrowth has, in the North-West, mostly died off,
and I have then habitually found them in coveys, as a rule, seven
or eight in number. But looking back, I cannot remember anything
else to record about them, except that they occur in just
such dark ravines as constitute the favourite haunts of that
ugly beast (part goat, part antelope, and part pig—I refer to
looks only) the Surrow, and that, when flushed, they fly low and
swiftly, and, if not knocked down at once, are out of sight behind
bushes and trees before you well know what you are about.
I cannot remember ever seeing one until flushed by the dogs,*
and so naturally can say nothing of their habits.
My friend Mr. Wilson s a y s :—
"This handsome little Partridge inhabits the forests and
jungles, and is never found in open spots or cultivated fields.
It is most numerous on the lower ranges in the wooded ravines
and hill-sides from the summit to near the base, but does not
occur at the foot of the hills or low down in the valleys. It is
not so common in the interior, but is met with to an elevation
of about 9,000 feet. It is rather solitary in its habits, generally
found in pairs ; but occasionally, in autumn and winter, five
or six will collect together and keep about one spot.
" It is a quiet unsuspicious bird ; when alarmed, it utters a
soft whistle, and generally creeps away through the underwood,
if not closely pressed, in preference to rising. Its flight is
rapid, oftener across the hill than downwards, and seldom very
far; in general, not more than 80 or 100 yards. Its food
being very similar, it is met with in the same places as the
Koklass Pheasant, and both arc often found together. Indeed,
in winter, in some of the forests of the interior, Tragopans,
Moonal, Koklass, and Kalij Pheasants and the Hill Partridge are
at times all found within a compass of fifty or sixty yards.
" I t feeds on leaves, roots, maggots, seeds, and berries; in
confinement it will cat grain ; in a large cage or enclosure its
motions are very lively, and it runs about with great sprightliness
from one part to another. It occasionally mounts into the
trees, but not so often as a forest bird might be expected to do.
* The scent of these birds lies very strong, and I have noticed that dogs go at
once oil the scent of Pheasants to follow up that of this species.
THE COMMON HILL PARTRIDGE. 71
In the forests of the interior, in spring, it is often heard calling
at all hours of the day. The call is a single loud soft whistle,
and may be easily imitated so as to entice the bird quite close.
At other seasons it is never heard to call, except when disturbed."
Hodgson notes that this species " tenants the deepest forests
at all elevations, keeping to their interior. I have seen them in
the very centres of the huge damp forests descending from the
summits of some of the higher hills.
" They constantly perch. At the top of Pulchook I flushed a
covey of eight or ten, which flew widely scattered, all alighting
on the highest trees."
I have never seen them alight on a tree, but more than once
have had them start out of trees over my head.
Col. Tickell remarks :—
" I have met with them in ones and twos, sometimes in a
small covey of five or six. They are not wild, trusting apparently
to the dense covert they frequent for safety ; and I have
sometimes sat down on the hill side, and, after remaining quiet
for a few minutes, heard their little feet pattering and scratching
over the fallen leaves close to me. Now and then one
would emit a low soft whistle ; and in places under the bushes,
where no grass grew, one or two might be seen picking and pecking
as they glided along under the leaves. In these bare spots
they would sit or lie on their sides, scratching and throwing dust
over themselves. A very little movement would send them all
into covert as suddenly as if they had disappeared by magic,
and by striding hastily into the bush where they had been last
seen, it was possible sometimes to flush them and get one, or a
hasty right and left shot ; but a more difficult one cannot
be imagined, for they fly with the sudden startling flush and
flurry of the Partridge, with great speed, and so low over the
underwood as barely to afford aim enough to be reckoned even
a snap shot."
This latter is true enough, and they afford no regular sport,
as it is perfectly useless looking after them ; but when shooting
Pheasants, the dogs continually put them up, and you may
often include three or four brace in the day's bag. Flying
as they do, they help to diversify the day's sport, as a Snipe
does at home when you are Pheasant-shooting.
They are very good eating when you can get nothing better;
when you can, put them in the Blaize Pot (or Hunter's Stew
as some call i t ) ; they do not repay separate cooking ; they are
too dry.
I may note that, in some parts of the hills, the shepherds
do not like your killing these birds; their call is precisely like
the whistle by which the shepherds call their flocks, and these
worthies will, in places, gravely maintain that the birds are
animated by the souls of their (the shepherds') deceased
confreres.