It was a male—the pheasant in the somewhat limiting bodily conformation typical of egg laying—was male. I knew pheasants were gender-dimorphic, but I probably forgot this obvious fact of nature because I haven’t seen a female pheasant around our place—though if I had, I’d probably have taken her for a partridge. I have two excellent field guides I could have readily checked, but I suppose I was too entranced with the strangeness of the sight of the mock egg laying—and for half an hour, no less. He was definitely not sand bathing. No wonder we’ve never seen a brood of pheasant chicks around here.