Blood Pheasant

Ithaginis cruentus

A male blood pheasant has splatters of "bloody" feathers across his face, breast, and tail. This species lives in the Himalayan Mountains, feeding mostly on mosses and moving with the snowline between elevations of 3,200–4,700 metres (10,500–15,400 ft). It's adapted to resist both hypoxia and high UV radiation.


In the lower reaches of the Himalayan Mountains, on the border between endless snow and barren ground, strides a blood-splattered bird. It walks in the shadows of bleak, colossal peaks. It looks down upon valleys descending into lush verdure. It straddles the border between these two worlds; between the tropical foothills full of cacophonous life and the snow-laden silence of the mountain crowns. Its home is a stark, windswept place of gnarled and hardy plants that cling to rocky outcrops, and ancient needled trees. It is a world of grey and brown and a deep dark green. Upon these slopes, the blood pheasant is a smear of crimson red.

Bloody Bird

The male, as is often the case, is the more ostentatious sex. He is dressed for a rave or a Halloween parade. His feathery attire is silvery grey across his back and underside, and he wears a white bib over his throat. Plumes of ectoplasmic green streak his wings and belly. His face is a mask of shocking crimson and, running down his chest, are saturated smears of red. His tail too is soaked in scarlet, as if he tried to sweep away spilt blood. He appears to have just committed a messy murder.

The female, on the other hand, looks innocent. Her plumage is an autumnal gradient; speckled grey at the tip of her tail, to a warm brown body, to an ochre face. Her plump form, nestled amidst desiccated scrubs and amber mosses, all but disappears from sight.

Borderlands

The blood pheasant's range traces the Himalayas from Nepal in the west, through Sikkim (India), northern Myanmar, Tibet, and central and south-central China in the east.

Practically any habitat type is found within this region, one need only travel vertically. The foothills of the Himalayas host tropical rainforests composed of bamboo, ferns, and teak. Trekking upwards, the tropical trees turn to temperate oak, maple, and rhododendrons. Then the air chills considerably and you enter a wintery realm of needle-leaved pines and firs. Higher still, it gets even colder, and the air thins along with the foliage; here stunted shrubs grow low among patches of snow. Then you hit the snowline — the boundary between snow-covered and snow-free ground — and stare up at a land of permanent frost and ice, barren save for some cushion plants and lichen. You don't travel further upwards, and neither does the blood pheasant.

The home of the blood pheasant is described as the lower Himalayas — between elevations of 3,200 and 4,700 metres (10,500 - 15,400 ft) — still higher than the highest peaks of many other mountain ranges. Throughout the year, the pheasant performs a slow migration of sorts — not across the land, but up and down its mountainous home. As the seasons change, the snowline ebbs and flows like a slow tide. The blood pheasant, a denizen of this borderland, travels along with it.

Altitudinal Adaptations

Few animals live much higher than the blood pheasant.¹ For that, there is good reason. This is a sparse realm, this mountain place, where life is often bleak and austere. An expansive place, opening out into the sky, yet still suffocating. And from above, like thousands of tiny arrows, fall rays of piercing radiation. You can stand atop the world, but the heights will eventually bring you to heel.

Even in the blood pheasant's home, only halfway to the Himalayas' tallest peaks, it faces the hardships of life on high. Amidst the coniferous and mixed forest, and the scraggly montane scrub, the pheasant scrounges for sustenance; for grass shoots and insects, for edible leaf litter and, above all, mosses.

These ancient plants, draping boulders and tree trunks like sylvan rugs, offer very little in the way of nutrition. For reference, a reindeer would need to eat 7 kg (15 lbs) of moss to get the same energy as gets from half a kilogram (1 lb) of tundra grass. Naturally, then, few animals want to eat it — most mosses are inedible to humans and, given their poor nutritional profile and I imagine bad taste (earthy and bitter), they're typically a last resort survival food. It goes to show, then, the severity of the blood pheasant's life, that it must regularly feast on something so fruitless and foul.

Then there are the dangers of altitude. The higher you climb, the greater your risk of hypoxia. You become confused and anxious, you have difficulty breathing and your heart races, and in extreme cases, your hands begin to turn blue. Your body is starved for oxygen. And while your lungs gasp for air, your skin is bombarded by the high levels of UV radiation as the harmful rays travel more easily up here through the thin atmosphere — for every 1,000 meters (3,280 ft) of altitude, UV levels increase by about 10%.

Like a stone in a river, every species is shaped by its environment. The blood pheasant bears the marks of its alpine home in its genes. A study found at least ten different genes that allow the pheasant to live under hypoxic (low oxygen) conditions. Seven genes were found that confer on it resistance to UV radiation. Of course, the environment cannot directly mould the shape of a species' genome; changes are worked over the course of generations, at the cost of many childless deaths. The pheasant's high-altitude genes were positively selected, meaning that they were favoured by natural selection over other variants (alleles). Simply, the individuals with genes that gave them a higher chance of survival had more offspring that also carried those genes — they were fruitful and multiplied — ultimately steering the course taken by the species as a whole; creating a pheasant that can survive off of mosses, live in thin air, and withstand attacks from the sun.

But, the trials of a blood pheasant begin very early. To survive, it requires resilience before it even hatches from its egg.

Chilly Incubation

A handsome male endowed with long ear tufts — very attractive to females.

During winter, small flocks of blood pheasants band together to weather the harsh season. Come summer, the flocks fracture into lone travellers or bonded couples. The female blood pheasant shows particular preferences when choosing a partner. Just like people tend to care more about certain physical traits in a romantic partner — height, facial symmetry, hairstyle — but care little about other traits — forearm length, nail colour, hand proportions — a pheasant female also focuses on certain parts of the male. She likes a lengthy tail and prominent ear tufts, and she likes his wattle (the bare red skin on his face) speckled with black points. She cares not for his wattle size, nor the brightness of his plumage.

Raising a family in the Himalayan heights requires a certain degree of cooperation, but the female still shoulders most of the responsibility. She constructs the nest from dry twigs and leaves, thin roots, pin needles, and mosses; softened with a layer of her belly feathers. She lays her clutch (typically 6 or 7 eggs) into their cradle then plops down atop them. The eggs, lined by soft belly feathers in the nest below and their mother's belly feathers above, are insulated from the cold surroundings. But eventually, the mother has to eat. She rises from the nest at dawn to take a break and a meal. She is usually gone for a lengthy 6 hours every day — likely because her low-energy diet requires a longer foraging time. The father, although he stands guard over the nest, won't take her place to warm their eggs and so they lay exposed and cold.

A female blood pheasant in the snow.

The ideal incubation temperature for most bird eggs happens to be around human body temperature; 37°C (98.6°F). The pheasant eggs quickly fall far below the optimal range as they lay exposed to the cold mountain air. For around 3 and a half hours a day, they drop below 10°C (50°F), entering a state of embryonic hypothermia. Every day, for the 37 days of incubation, the mother leaves and only returns at about midday to rewarm her brood; each day the eggs freeze and thaw. Despite this haphazard incubation, most of the eggs still hatch into little blood pheasant chicks — with a hatching rate of over 90% — that toddle at their mother's heels after only a couple of days.


Lofty Lifestyles: The Himalayas’ Highest-Living Animals

¹ A few species do live among the ice and rock of the upper Himalayas — although typically not year-round, as they wisely migrate to lower altitudes during winter. Two other pheasants, the Himalayan and Tibetan snowcocks, regularly venture higher than their "bloody" relative — up to heights of 5,000 or even 5,800 metres (16,400–18,000 ft) during summer. These pheasants look like they belong here, their plumage taking on the colours of the alpine scape; the slate grey of stone, the brown of desiccated grass, the copper of moss, and the white of snow. The calls of the snowcocks whistle and boom, echoing across the Himalayas.

Alongside these thunderous pheasants lives a silent beast; a spotted silver ghost. It scales cliff faces and stalks mountain ridges. Its padded paws leave large prints in the fresh snow. Its long, woolly tail unfurls behind it, bestowing balance on precarious terrain. This is the snow leopard — one of less than 6,000 likely left in the wild. It too ascends to elevations of 5,500 metres (16,400 ft).

Then there are the hoofed mountaineers; perhaps the true masters of the mountains. There is the bharal, or the blue sheep, which actually has a coat of light-brownish-grey (although if you squint just right, there might be a sheen of blue). There is the Himalayan ibex with its massive decurved horns (in males) that strike a dramatic silhouette against the blue-grey sky. And finally, the lithe Tibetan antelope, with skinny, long, forward-arching horns, and the ability to speed across the Tibetan Plateau at 80 km/h (50 mph). These ungulates are seen from elevations as low as 2,000 metres (6,500 ft) and regularly as high as 5,500 or even 6,000 metres (18,000–19,700 ft).

However, there is one animal that endures higher heights than any of these mountain pioners. What is this mighty creature? It is a rotund relative of the rabbit. The large-eared pika looks a lot like a compact rabbit; only about 18 cm (7 in) long, with a squat body and rounded, satellite-dish ears. It goes about its business collecting grasses and wildflowers, and drying them in the sun, to use later as bedding or food. This innocuous critter is one of the highest-living animals on Earth. It looks down upon all the hardy pheasants, hoofed alpinists, and mythical phantom cats from elevations as high as 6,100 metres (20,000 ft).

Clockwise from top left; Himalayan snowcock (Tetraogallus himalayensis), Tibetan snowcock (Tetraogallus tibetanus), and snow leopard (Panthera uncia).

Clockwise from top left; Himalayan ibex (Capra ibex sibirica), bharal (Pseudois nayaur), and Tibetan antelope or chiru (Pantholops hodgsonii).

The king of the high Himalayas — the large-eared pika (Ochotona macrotis).


Where Does It Live?

⛰️ Coniferous, mixed forest, or scrubland, near the snowline.

📍 The lower Himalayas; Nepal, Sikkim, northern Myanmar, Tibet, and central and south-central China.

‘Least Concern’ as of 01 October, 2016.



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