Game Birds and Game Fishes of the Pacific Coast

by Harry Thom Payne

(Phasianus torquatus)

While the wild turkey is the only representative of the Phasianidæ found native to the American continent, the Mongolian pheasant has been so successfully acclimatized in Oregon and Washington that it must now be recognized as an established resident species.

After it became an established fact that these pheasants were proving a success in Oregon, there became a demand for their introduction into California, and thousands of dollars were spent for a number of years in an unsuccessful effort to acclimatize them.

The pheasant, like the grouse, is a cold country bird, and the mild and dry climate of California does not appeal to their peculiar tastes or the requirements of their physical being. Oregon, however, possesses the climatic, floral and entomic conditions for which nature has fitted them. Green vegetation lasts during the whole season in which they rear their young, thus furnishing them with that abundance of insects necessary to the health and nourishment of the young chicks. They are endowed with certain physical attributes for which the cold of winter is necessary to preserve a continued healthful condition, and this, too, they find in Oregon. In fact this constitutional demand for the cold of winter has been by nature so strongly implanted within them that the rearing of thirty generations in the comparatively mild climate of Oregon has not effaced it, and obeying this primal instinct they have migrated through Washington and into the better-loved and colder winters of British Columbia.

Therefore, while California undoubtedly may have an abundance of wild turkeys, quail in unlimited numbers and of two or three more species than we have at present, the timber and the plain tinamus of South America, and possibly the sand grouse of southern Europe, she will never have pheasants unless they be of the extreme southern varieties, and never have more than a limited supply of grouse.

North of the mountains of southern Oregon and through Washington into British Columbia pheasants are plentiful and furnish the principal sport of the lovers of upland shooting of that section of the Pacific Coast. The Mongolian pheasant as a game bird has his merits and demerits. As a large, beautiful plumaged bird to grace the game bag the pheasant stands without a rival. As a table bird the pheasant is only surpassed in delicacy of flavor by the wild turkey. As an aggravating runner from the dog the pheasant is in a class by itself, and as an evader of all pursuit when wounded, "the Chinaman," as they are generally called in Oregon, can give odds to the gambel quail. Though the pheasant is a large bird and able to carry off a good deal of shot, it starts so slow to one accustomed to the rapid flight of the California quail that a reasonably fair shot will find no difficulty in getting the limit with a sixteen gauge.

They are slow starters, caused by their habit of rising at an angle of forty-five to fifty degrees until they reach a height of about ten feet before their rapid flight begins, but when once on the wing they are quite swift flyers.

While I have said that the pheasants are aggravating runners, this is principally so in the latter part of the season. In the earlier parts they are commonly found in the stubble fields, potato and other vegetable patches, and usually in single broods. At such times I have found them to lie quite well to the dog, not flushing until closely approached, and running but little except when winged. They are then easy shooting, but the fine size of the bird and the beautiful plumage of the cocks give a zest to the sport and a pleasant distinctiveness which every sportsman will be pleased to add to the list of upland shooting he has engaged in.

To those who wish to spend a season on these handsome birds, Oregon, especially, offers an attraction which goes far beyond its good supply of pheasants. During the open pheasant season the climate of Oregon is as near perfect as one can ask. That season of the eastern states that has been idealized in verse, and is known as Indian summer, finds its superlative in the early fall of Oregon. The sun shines brightly, but with its rays softened by its sub-equinoctial position; the air is mild, clear and invigorating, and the golden hues of the stubble field, the yet bright green of the grassy pastures, the rich tints of the dying autumn leaves, all framed in the blue-green fringe of the near-by pines and firs, produce a picture strikingly beautiful and always enjoyed. It is in this delightful season with such a picture on every side, heightened by an occasional glimpse of some towering mountain peak with its crown of eternal snows, that the sportsman of Oregon lays aside the cares of life and lives in an elysium during his pheasant-shooting days. The setting of the stage is as much to the play as the acting. So with our days after game. The invigorating air we breathe, the beauty of the landscape, the stateliness of the forest, the rugged grandeur of the mountains, the soul-inspiring picture of our dogs on point and back, lends more to the real enjoyment of the day than does the size of the bag we carry home.