s. First, that of the Himalayan pheasants and
game-birds. In a recent interesting article by E.P. Stebbing[H] the
past, present and hoped-for future of game birds and animals in India is
reviewed. Unfortunately, however, most of the finest creatures in Asia
live beyond the border of the British sphere of influence, and though
within sight, are absolutely beyond reach of civilized law. The heart of
the Himalayas,--the haunts of some of the most beautiful birds in the
world, the tragopans, the blood and impeyan pheasants--lies within the
limits of Nepal, a little country which time and time again has bade
defiance to British attacks, and still maintains its independence. From
its northern border Mt. Everest looks down from its most exalted of all
earthly summits and sees valley after valley depleted of first one bird
and then another. I have seen and lived with Nepalese shepherds who have
nothing to do month after month but watch their flocks. In the lofty
solitudes time hangs heavy on their hands, and with true oriental
patience they weave loop after loop of yak-hair snares, and then set
them, not in dozens or scores, but in hundreds and thousands up and down
the valleys.

[Footnote H: "Game Sanctuaries and Game Protection in India,"
Proc. Zool. Soc., London, 1912. pp. 23-35.]

In one locality seven great valleys had been completely cleared of
pheasants, only a single pair of tragopans remaining; and from one of
these little brown men I took two hundred nooses which had been prepared
for these lone survivors. In these cases, the birds were either cooked
and eaten at once, or sold to some passing shepherd or lama for a few
annas. But in other parts of this unknown land systematic collecting of
skins goes on, for bale after bale of impeyan and red argus (tragopan)
pheasant skins goes down to the Calcutta wharves, where its infamous
contents, though known, are safe from seizure under the Nepal Raja's
seal! Thus it is that the London feather sales still list these among
the most splendid of all living birds. And shame upon shame, when we
read of 80 impeyan skins "dull," or "slightly defective," we know that
these are female birds. Then, if ever, we realize that the time of the
bird and the beast is passing, the acme of evolution for these wonderful
beings is reached, and at most we can preserve only a small fragment of
them.

To the millinery hunter, what the egret is to America, and the bird of
paradise to New Guinea, th