„,._.„_ BIRDS WL Mffi$$%]£$ iPs65^C*H^!&fi^ * mmi EDWYN SANDYS UPLAND GAME and others AMERICAN SPORTSMAN'S LIBRARY Edited by Caspar Whitney LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. Class THE AMERICAN SPORTSMAN^ LIBRARY EDITED BY CASPAR WHITNEY UPLAND GAME BIRDS «' , -~- UPLAND GAME BIRDS BY EDWYN SANDYS AND T. S. VAN DYKE ILLUSTRATED BY L. A. FUERTES, A. B. FROST J. O. NUGENT, AND C. L. BULL THE MACMILLAN COMPANY LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., LTD. 1904 All rights reserved COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. Set up and electrotyped. Published May, 1902. Reprinted October, 1904. NorbJooU J. S. Cashing & Co. — Berwick & Smith Co. Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. CONTENTS UPLAND GAME BY EDWYN SANDYS THE PARTRIDGE FAMILY PAGB THE QUAIL l The Shooting of the Quail 3° Near the End of the Season . . . . * . 64 The Enemies of the Quail 69 A Day over Dogs 73 The Florida Bob-white 85 The Texan Bob-white 87 The Masked Bob-white 89 THE PARTRIDGES 91 The Mountain Partridge 91 The Plumed Partridge 93 The San Pedro Partridge 94 The Scaled Partridge . 94 The Chestnut-bellied Scaled Partridge .... 96 The California Partridge <& The Valley Partridge 100 Gambel's Partridge 101 The Massena Partridge IO4 THE GROUSE FAMILY The Ruffed Grouse Io8 Some Glimpses of Grousing *32 v 236464 vi Contents PAGE Sabine's Grouse ......... 143 The Canadian Ruffed Grouse 144 The Gray Ruffed Grouse . . . . . . .146 The Dusky Grouse 147 The Sooty Grouse 152 Richardson's Grouse 153 The Canada Grouse 153 Franklin's Grouse 156 The Prairie-Hen 156 A Match at Chickens 177 The Heath-Hen 192 The Lesser Prairie-Hen 193 Attwater's Prairie-Hen 193 The Sharp-tailed Grouse 193 The Columbian Sharp-tailed Grouse 194 The Prairie Sharp-tailed Grouse 195 The Sage-Grouse 210 THE PTARMIGAN FAMILY The Willow Ptarmigan 221 A Try for Ptarmigan 229 Allen's Ptarmigan ......... 240 The Rock Ptarmigan 241 Reinhardt's Ptarmigan 241 Welch's Ptarmigan 242 The White-tailed Ptarmigan 242 Other Ptarmigan 247 THE TURKEY FAMILY The Wild Turkey 248 The Florida Wild Turkey 298 Contents vii PAGE Elliot's Rio Grande Turkey 299 The Mexican Turkey 299 THE WOODCOCK The American Woodcock 303 PLOVER Bartram's Sandpiper — Upland Plover 322 The Golden Plover 330 A Golden Opportunity 332 FOREIGN GAME Foreign Game 345 THE CRANES The Whooping Crane 353 The Sand-hill Crane 359 THE MOURNING DOVE The Mourning Dove 367 THE QUAIL AND THE GROUSE OF THE PACIFIC COAST BY T. S. VAN DYKE The Valley-Quail of California 377 The Mountain-Quail 386 Gambel' s Partridge. The Quail of the Desert . . -394 The Ruffed Grouse 403 The Dusky Grouse 4*0 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS THE SUPREME MOMENT Frontispiece FACING PAGE THE NATIONAL GAME-BIRD (Bob-white) .... 68 A DESERT RUNNER (GambePs Partridge) .... 100 THE RUFFED GROUSE STRUTTING 134 THE PRAIRIE CHICKEN (Pinnated Grouse) .... 174 THE KING OF WILD BIRDS 252 A WOODLAND HERMIT (The Woodcock) . . . .303 THE GAME-BIRD OF THE UNIVERSE (The Plover) . . 328 CALIFORNIA MOUNTAIN-QUAIL 386 UPLAND GAME BY EDWYN SANDYS UPLAND GAME THE PARTRIDGE FAMILY CLASS AVES — Order Gallinae (gallinaceous birds — scratching on the ground like domestic fowl — also called Rasores, from the Latin " rasor," a scraper) : having fowl-like feet. Family Tetraonidce — Grouse, partridges, quails, etc. Sub-families — Odontophorince (American partridges) and Tetraonince (grouse and ptarmigan). Genus Colince, which includes (i) the Bob White, C. mrginianus ; (2) Texas Bob White, C. V. texanus; (3) Florida Bob White, C. v. floridanus ; (4) Masked Bob White, C. ridgwayi. Family Type — Body short, rounded, giving a plump appearance; feathers of crown slightly rounded and erectile, but not forming a true crest. Tail about three-fifths length of wing. Flight vigorous, whirring. Numbers i, 2, and 3 much alike, sexes also showing close resemblance, except in color of throats and super- ciliary stripes. In color C. ridgwayi differs broadly from others. C. virginianus — total length, about 9^ inches ; wing, 4* ; tail, 2f ; tarsus, i£; bill, f. C. v. floridanus — total length, about 7f inches; wing, 4f; tail, 2|; tarsus, ij; bill, \. C. if. texanus — total length, about 9 inches ; wing, 4^ ; tail, 2£ ; tarsus, i£ ; bill, \. C. ridgwayi — total length, about 8£ inches; wing, 4^; tail, 2|; tarsus, i£; bill, \. THE QUAIL Despite the leagues of virgin paper and gallons of ink which have been wedded to produce the story and the glory of the shooting of the Ameri- \£:\] £«*•': : \ /Fbg Partridge Family can "quail," the interesting fact remains — there's no such bird. If at the time of this writing there be true quail alive and free in the United States of America, either the birds or their immediate ancestors have been imported. The quail of the Bible story, the heaven-sent meat to the famished, was a true quail, but the bird is not a native of this country. And, in passing, it may not be out of place to remark that latter-day scientific knowledge only sustains, as it does in so many other instances, the absolute truth of the ancient record. Under conditions likely to prevail at a certain season of any year, great flocks of migrating. quail not only might, but probably would, act as did their ances- tors in days of old. Nor is such a reference out of place in a sports- man's book. A true sportsman must be a true gentleman, and a true gentleman surely will not forget his Host while enjoying to the full the feast of good things and the glorious beauty of the place of entertainment provided for him. We of the generous craft, whose very name binds us to honorable deed and fair speech, — we who by virtue of that craft get so near to what is fairest and cleanest of earth, — shall we forget ? Some years ago an earnest but misguided at- tempt was made to introduce a true quail — the migratory variety. Sportsmen of different parts Tbe Quail 3 of the country heard of the possibility of adding to our list of upland game, and money for the purpose was speedily forthcoming. It was the idea that the migratory quail could be brought here in sufficient numbers to establish the species. The original importations were released at vari- ous points in the Northern states and Canada early in spring, the promoters of the venture believing the birds would breed in the strange covers, and that their produce, at least, would establish their hereditary instinct by moving southward at the approach of cold weather and returning to their birthplaces the spring following. Theoretically, this to the average sportsman appeared a simple proposition, but the more sci- entific minority were, to say the least, sceptical. All, however, were more or less interested and curious concerning the expected northern migra- tion the following spring. When the season had swung round, tidings of the new game were eagerly awaited. The waiting proved a trifle over-long ; indeed, it is extremely likely that the long-looked-for migrants, if ever they took to flight, forgot to turn about. The fate of these birds is problematical. Turned loose at random as too many of them were, amid strange cover, food, and surroundings, and exposed to attack by various unfamiliar foes, perhaps the majority of them perished not far 4 The Partridge Family from where they were released. The first severe weather may have destroyed the remainder ; but if a few drifted southward in an attempt to reach their native land, the final long flight over sea was assuredly a feat far beyond their limited powers. The loss of these birds was no serious matter. Small, fast-running, lacking all the better quali- ties of their American namesakes, the migratory quail would at the best have been a very question- able addition to our list of game birds. Those who tried good dogs on them while the opportu- nity lasted, appeared to think that the famished Israelite of old did not eat quite enough. Of the birds popularly known as "quail " in dif- ferent parts of this country, scientists have recog- nized no less than thirteen varieties, some of which they have agreed to term " Bob Whites," while the others are " partridges." With the name Bob White, which was suggested by the well- known and musical call of the male bird, sports- men need not quarrel — "A rose by any other name — " etc. The birds classified as Bob Whites include Colinus virginianus, the quail of sport- ing lore ; Colinus virginianus floridanus, the Florida variety ; C. v. texanus, of Texas and Mexico ; and C. ridgwayi, the masked Bob White of southern Arizona and Mexico. The partridges comprise a group in which are Oreortyx pictus, the mountain partridge of Cali- The Quail 5 fornia, Oregon, and Washington, which has been introduced into Vancouver Island ; O. p. plumi- ferus, of California, Oregon, and Nevada; O.p. confinis, the San Pedro partridge of Lower Cali- fornia ; Callipepla squamata, the scaled partridge of western Texas, New Mexico, southern Ari- zona, and valley of Mexico ; C. s. castaneigastra, the chestnut-bellied scaled partridge of the lower Rio Grande valley, Texas, and northeastern Mexico ; Lophortyx calif ornicus, of the Califor- nia coast, and introduced into Oregon, Washing- ton, and British Columbia ; L. c. vallicola, of California, Oregon, and Nevada ; L. gambeli, of southern Utah, Nevada, northwestern Mexico, western Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and Cali- fornia ; and Crytonyx montezuma, the Massena partridge of western Texas, New Mexico, Ari- zona, and the table-lands of Mexico. All of these are beautiful, the oddest appearing being the curiously marked Massena partridge, with the plumage of which Nature appears to have worked when in a playful mood, so strangely are the almost startling markings arranged. The Bob White has been placed at the head of the list for reasons good. Not one of his crested or more gayly marked relatives, near or remote, can approach him in sporting qualifications. He truly is the king of his race, and not alone that, for in the opinion of hosts of enthusiastic sports- 6 Tbe Partridge Family men he is the best bird that flies. Judged from the sportsman's point of view, no other bird ap- pears to so exactly meet all requirements. Swift and small, he offers a sufficiently difficult mark to thoroughly test one's skill; prolific to an aston- ishing degree, he may be depended upon to hold his own under any reasonable conditions; a haunter of all sorts of ground, his pursuit ever presents the wearing charm of infinite variety; hardy and strong, he thrives under climatic con- ditions which few other game birds can endure ; his limited wanderings seldom take him far from his native farm; he is there when wanted, and when secured his small, plump body is worthy a chef's supreme effort and a gourmand's unstinted praise. Add to all this his habit of lying well before dogs, and what more could sportsman true desire — especially when it is remembered that this prize package of golden qualities comes to us in a. beautiful cover — for the plu- mage is what may be termed both pleasing and appropriate. The Bob White is a widely distributed species, being found more or less abundant throughout the eastern United States from Maine to Florida. In the western portion of the province of On- tario it is plentiful, while west of the Missis- sippi its range extends to South Dakota, Missouri, and eastern Texas. It has also been introduced Tbe Quail 7 into New Mexico, Colorado, Utah, Idaho, Cali- fornia, Oregon, Washington, and British Colum- bia. Throughout all this vast expanse of country it thrives and fulfils its fourfold mission, as martyr to the sporting spirit, food to the epi- cure and the ailing, a joy to the lover of nature, and as an extremely valuable assistant to the agriculturist. The quail truly is a bird of the farm, the camp-follower of the strong army of agriculture which is so steadily conquering the wild acres of the West. As the grain belt broadens, so does the range of Bob White extend. Himself no ploughman, yet he conscien- tiously follows the plough. He is the gleaner, who never reaps, who guards the growing crops, who glories over a bounteous yield, yet is content to watch and wait for those lost grains which fall to him by right. Shrewd foe to the foes of the farm, he hunts amid the crowding stems for skulking insect peril ; and what he and his swarming tribe fail to detect, can work but small harm. His food consists of " mast," i.e. small acorns, beechnuts ; grain of various kinds, notably buckwheat, corn, and wheat, millet, and a variety of small seeds, some of these being of the most troublesome weeds. These, of course, are the autumn and winter foods; at other seasons the diet is chiefly insectivorous, including ants and their larvae, potato beetles, chinch bugs, cotton 8 The Partridge Family worms, grasshoppers, crickets, the cutworm moth, and probably a few others which the farmer is glad to dispense with. In the destruction of these the quail performs a service the value of which, while it cannot be determined, unques- tionably is great. Apropos of this point: lest some of the well-meaning but frequently mis- guided bird lovers should arise in their zealous misunderstanding of actual conditions and ex- claim, " Then, if quail do this, they should not be shot ! " it must be borne in mind that the entire protection of the quail would not mean a speedy increase of useful workers and a corre- sponding decrease of insect pests. The fact is, that quail will not stand overcrowding. If they did, it would be a simple matter to closely pre- serve a few thousand acres until the tract became literally alive with the birds. Experience has taught that a certain number of acres will carry only a certain number of quail. During the mat- ing season, the males, like all gallinaceous birds, are extremely pugnacious, and the mated male will tolerate no possible near-by rival. Hence, too many birds would surely mean trouble, war, and confusion, and a consequent interruption of most important business. It is quite possible, too, that overcrowding would, as it does in the case of closely preserved grouse, cause disease.1 In any 1 England is suffering this season (1901) a considerable loss of its birds from this very cause. — EDITOR. The Qiiail 9 event the quail appear to settle the matter in a satisfactory way by scattering over the country, so that each brood may enjoy a range of its own. The love-making of the quail is carried on with a dash and spirit worthy of so gamey a bird. Every resident of a quail country knows and loves the clear, sweet, often defiant whistle of " Bob White — Bob-bob — White ! " which, in the Northeast, during May, is flung from fence to stump, to and fro across sun-kissed open and flowered mead. Amid the perfumed breath of new-waked blooms and tender growing things ; when the soft air is a-tremble with glad bird voices, which plead for love from swaying frond, sweet upper air, and bosky dell, then brave, brown Bob feels the witchery of the season and boldly enters Love's fateful lists. It is a merry tour- ney, for small knights are bold, and fair maids some- what coy. Suitors are many, sometimes too many, and the prizes must be fairly won. At first Bob is more of the sighing lover, — the minstrel 'neath his lady's bower, — and he contents himself with sending random love-notes by the mischievous breeze. From across his favorite field comes an echo of his ringing call — the voice of some ambi- tious rival ! At once he is all attention. Does he hear aright? Can it be that insignificant little bird with which he shared quarters under the snow-laden brush-heap through half of the win- io The Partridge Family ter just past ? He will see to it, and at once ! « Bob — White ! Bob-bob — White — Bob — Whi- ite ! ! " Each cry is louder and sharper than its predecessor, the last " Whi-ite " being shaken with anger. And ever, like an echo, comes the reply, for the rival is as audacious and passionate as our doughty hero, and quite as ready to break a lance when bright eyes are willing to behold brave deeds. From the long-distance hurling of defiances the dispute gradually progresses to a tempestuous interchange of musical incivilities at short range. The pygmy warriors are comi- cally in earnest. Each puffs himself up and struts about as though fairly bursting with rage, and there is much raising of crests, cocking of heads, and short racings this way and that. One runs to the top of an old ant-hill, and from this coign of vantage fairly shouts his desire for deadly combat ; the other springs upon a fallen log and makes the air ring with requests for gore. Fi- nally, they both reach an open space and catch sight of each other. Then there is a funny little fight, but a furious one while it lasts. They fight after the manner of small game chickens, but the action is much faster, and there is considerable savage biting and tenacious hanging-on by the short, strong bills. Feathers are pulled and broken, heads are pecked until a trace of blood appears, there is much cuffing by whirring wings The Quail n and striking by small feet, until one yields and slips away discomfited. To the victor belongl the spoils ; and while the panting hero is endeavoring to shout his triumph, forth from her secret hiding-place demurely steps the cause of all the trouble, the woman in the case, the trim, brown-throated hen. In all prob- ability she has not cared a continental about either warrior. As the racing men put it, her business is to " pick a winner," and in so doing she merely plays her part in Nature's wonderful plan according to which the fittest survive for the perpetuation of the race. Some very pretty love- making follows, for my lady holds herself not too cheaply. Sir Knight, though fresh from victory bravely won, must still strut and coax and plead — nay! perchance fight it all over again with some new rival before she will bestow the favor he craves. At last she yields, and to her credit be it said that once mated, she is a model wife. It is questionable if her lord is equally irreproach- able. Among well-informed sportsmen there is a belief, to which the writer inclines, that the quail is, at least to a certain extent, polygamous. It is no uncommon thing to find nests containing thirty or more eggs, which must have been depos- ited by more than one hen. The fact of these eggs hatching proves a mated hen, and not an unmated wanderer laying as domestic fowl do, 12 The Partridge Family while the pugnacity of the cock forbids the theory of two pairs entering upon a joint housekeeping. It is therefore only reasonable to suppose that in some instances, at least, a single cock mates with two hens. Presumably, the young from such a nest would be cared for by the two hens. Be that as it may, the writer has often flushed broods of thirty-odd half-grown young which were accom- panied by three mature birds, one cock and two hens, while other broods, almost if not quite as strong, would be with one cock and hen. Some of the confusion regarding this point has no doubt been caused by the fact of the hen frequently hatching two broods in a single season. In such cases the first brood is carefully cared for by the male, while his mate is brooding the second lot of eggs. When these are hatched the two broods unite, which accounts for the unusually large young bevies frequently described by sportsmen. The man who only studies the quail along the rib of a breech-loader knows the bird merely dur- ing the shooting season. To him a big bevy is a big bevy and nothing more, and he doesn't bother himself over the fact that some of his birds are a bit smaller and less developed than others. Slight differences which to a trained observer at once betray the two broods, are lost to the man who shoots for love of killing, and whose sole desire is for birds big enough to show his The Quail 13 friends and plentiful enough to keep his gun barrels hot. The nest of the quail is built upon the ground, and usually it is well concealed. Favorite sites for it include the long growth about a fence or bush, an angle in the roots of an old stump or a thick tuft in a pasture. It may be under a log or the edge of a dry ditch, in the orchard or the hay-field, or even in some snug corner about a barn or outbuilding; wherever it be, its discov- ery is apt to be accidental. If in a hay-field, it may be arched over with interwoven grasses and have an entrance at one side. Occasionally this entrance is concealed by a short, roughly con- structed, tunnel-like approach. The nest is a puzzle in its way. At first glance one sees a startling array of snow-white, highly polished eggs, rather larger than the size of the bird would lead one to expect, and shaped like so many small peg-tops. The treasure house may have been located after a long search, but when found, you wonder how you failed to at once detect it. Then you marvel at the arrangement of the eggs, which are invariably closely packed, with the pointed ends downward. If you were foolish enough to take them out, the odds would be ten to one against your being able to put them back again, yet the wise little hen did it without hands or your boasted knowledge. Apropos of 14 The Partridge Family this, the reader is hereby solemnly warned against touching the eggs or meddling in any way with the nest. Strange as it may appear, the hen can tell if her home has been invaded, and an imme- diate desertion of it is liable to follow, even though the eggs be almost hatched. When a nest has been accidentally disturbed, the eggs had better be taken than suffered to spoil. They are excellent eating, but a wiser disposition would be to place them under a bantam hen and have her raise the brood. The period of incubation is about twenty- four days; and providing the foster-mother be made to perform her duties within a suitable enclosure, the young may be raised without any great trouble. Only a close pen or a wire netting of small mesh will confine the active things until they have become sufficiently tame to be trusted. My first attempt at rearing young quail ended in an awful tragedy. Five fresh eggs had been found and were placed under a reliable game ban- tam. A suitable netting was erected about the nest, and in due time five young quail made their appearance. They were transferred to a net- guarded grass run which included two large ant- hills. In a week the youngsters had become quite tame, whereupon a misguided but well- meaning person concluded to do a kindly act — in other words, meddle — and turned them loose. The bantam mother led them to the poultry Tbe Quail 15 yard, which was presided over by a mighty light brahma cock. Now the bantam was game, and when the larger hens, who had forgotten her dur- ing the enforced absence, gave her stony stares, or, it may be, questioned the strict legitimacy of her curious progeny, she declared war. While she was battling against heavy odds, the fool brahma cock spied the tiny quail, which he calmly devoured. As the wee legs of the last one were disappearing, a slightly delayed but impetuous brickbat hit the brahma. He literally met his end gamely, but as he happened to be worth twenty-five dollars, a certain youthful naturalist took his meals standing up and slept on his stomach for at least one week. This sad experi- ence, however, need not deter others from rearing quail. In suitable runs the birds will breed and prove most interesting pets. In the natural state the male bird takes an occasional turn at covering the eggs. Young quail are extraordinarily active, being able to run as soon as they escape from the shell. They are exceedingly pretty, the upper parts a rich chest- nut with buff below, the heads chestnut and buff with a dark line behind the eye, another on the forehead, and a spot at the angle of the mouth. When once the young have left the nest they are led by the parents to the best feeding-ground, and the spot of their birth knows them no more. 1 6 Tbe Partridge Family Both cock and hen are watchful guardians, and the first note of alarm from one or the other sends the young to cover with an amazing celerity. Either parent will simulate lameness to draw an intruder away from the skulking chicks. A brood of young quail suddenly come upon in an open space will disappear as though the ground had swallowed them. They have a mar- vellous knack of diving under short grass and tiny leaves, and, once hidden, they will remain motion- less until actually trodden upon. In anything like cover, a search for them would resemble the quest of the proverbial needle, while even upon almost bare ground only the sharpest eyes can locate them. Many writers have claimed that a chick will turn upon its back and cover itself with a leaf which it holds in position by its feet. This is, to say the least, extremely doubtful, especially as regards the holding of the leaf in any position by either feet or bill. A chick, in its rapid dart to cover, might turn upon its side, or even upon its back, under a leaf. In its anxiety to avoid any telltale movement, it might remain and be found in the awkward position, but to state that it delib- erately seizes the leaf, turns over, and holds the screen in position, is going a bit too far. What it actually does, in all probability amounts to nothing more than an instinctive dive into the nearest cover, a motionless pause, and a trust to The Quail 17 coloration and the quail Providence. If those who may stumble upon a brood of quail will take a sportsman-naturalist's advice, they will promptly back away for a few yards, sit down, and remain silently watchful. No search should be attempted, for the searcher is more likely to trample the life out of the youngsters than to catch one. But if he hide in patience, he may see the old hen return, mark her cautiously stealing to the spot, and hear her low musical twitter which tells that the peril has passed. Then from the scant tuft here, from the drooping leaf yonder, apparently from the bare ground over which his eyes have roved a dozen times, will arise active balls of pretty down until the spot appears to swarm with them. And the devoted mother will wrhisper soft greetings to each, and in some mysterious manner will make the correct count, and then with nervous care shep- herd them forward to where there is safer cover. And they will troop after her in perfect confi- dence, to resume their bug-hunting and botanical researches as though nothing important had transpired. Young quail are busy foragers, and they grow rapidly. Within a few days after leaving the nest they are capable of a flight of several yards. A brood flushed by a dog will buzz up like so many overgrown grasshoppers, fly a short distance, then dive into cover in a comical imitation of the tactics 1 8 The Partridge Family of their seniors. As insect catchers they are un- rivalled, their keen eyes and tireless little legs being a most efficient equipment even for a sus- tained chase. The parents scratch for them and call them to some dainty after the manner of ban- tam fowls, and the shrewd chicks speedily grasp the idea and set to work for themselves. A tiny quail scratching in a dusty spot is a most amus- ing sight. The wee legs twinkle through the various movements, at a rate which the eye can scarcely follow, and the sturdy feet kick the dust for inches around. When a prey is uncovered it is pounced upon with amazing speed and accu- racy, while a flying insect may call forth an elec- tric leap and a clean catch a foot or more above the ground. As the season advances grain, seeds of various weeds, berries, wild grapes, and mast are added to the menu, in which insects still remain prominent. After the wheat has been cut the broad stubbles become favorite resorts, especially when they are crowded with ragweed. Patches of standing corn now furnish attractive shelter and the suitable dusting-places so neces- sary to gallinaceous birds. Quail, as a rule, go to feed early in the morning and again about mid- afternoon, lying up during the interval in some cosey nook which offers facilities for the dust-bath and a quiet siesta. Not infrequently the feeding- ground is a considerable distance from the mid- The Quail 19 day shelter, in which case the bevy may fly to and fro, instead of going afoot. When walking to their feeding-ground quail almost invariably stick close to whatever cover there may be, following a weed-bordered fence, a line of thicket, or some convenient furrow. This habit doubtless is a pre- caution against sudden attacks by hawks. Until the young birds are about two-thirds grown, the plumage is pale and washy-looking, presenting a mottled effect very unlike the richer coloration of the adults. The young are then termed by sportsmen " cheepers," or " squeakers," owing to the fact that when flushed they utter a hurried chirrup. At this stage they, of course, are unfit for shooting and only an out and out " potter " would draw trigger on them. Even after mid- October these immature broods are constantly met with, and frequently they are a nuisance in thick cover, where it is impossible to distinguish them from prime specimens. Dogs will stanchly point them, and about all a sportsman can do when he finds himself knocking down such unde- sirable wretches, is to call off his canine and try a new beat. As a rule these " squeakers " are a second brood, and the older lot may be somewhere close by. This point is well worth remembering. When once beyond the squeaker stage and wear- ing the garb of their parents, the young, while perhaps rather small, are fit quarry for any man. 20 The Partridge Family Still, they lack the headlong dash of the old bird, and taken as they flush are comparatively easy marks. Your true sportsman does not enthuse over them. What he wants to hear is that pecul- iar hollow " Burr-r-r ! " which marks the rising of a strong, fully developed bird. To the trained ear this sound is genuine music, and no veteran will mistake it for the less pronounced whirring of a younger wing, no matter how large the owner of that wing may appear to be. Trained eyes, too, can almost invariably detect the sex of the flushed bird. To the ordinary observer, the hen quail, with the exception of the stripe over the eye and the throat, is very like the male, but to the trained eye there is a marked difference. The general tone of the hen is brown, that of the male bluish gray. The difference is slight, but it is there, and a master of quail-shooting can detect it even in the brief glimpse of a fast bird going straight- away — of course in the open. The adult male is marked as follows : fore- head, stripe over the eye and throat, white ; top of head, a mixture of chestnut and black ; sides of neck, prettily marked with chestnut, black, and white (in many specimens the conspicuous stripe over the eye is tinged with buff) ; general tone of the back and wings, a mixture of chestnut, yellow- ish brown, and gray blotched on middle of the back with black; a black mark surrounds the The Quail 21 white of the throat. Breast and lower parts, buffy white, crossed with narrow wavy lines of black. Flank feathers, chestnut barred with black and edged with white ; tail, bluish gray ; under tail- coverts, chestnut marked with black. Bill, black ; legs and feet, yellowish brown. Roughly speak- ing, the female is buff where the male is white ; otherwise the markings are so similar that an un- scientific eye would detect no difference. In sportsmen's parlance, — " white throat — cock ; buff throat — hen." Cocks having the throat more or less buff are occasionally seen. In im- mature specimens the throat marks usually are a dirty gray. A full-grown quail is about nine and and one-half inches long. In the writer's opinion the largest and heaviest bird he has handled was a female. The size and markings vary considera- bly in different parts of the country. The finest birds seen by the writer were in western Ontario and Pennsylvania. The Florida birds are smaller and darker in color. Pennsylvania sportsmen frequently speak of what they term " willow-legged quail," thereby meaning a bird with a greenish- tinted leg and which they claim is a trifle larger and finer than the ordinary type. Of a number of birds examined, none showed this peculiarity, all closely resembling the best Ontario specimens. The most familiar call is, of course, the sweet " Bob-white " of the male during the spring and 22 The Partridge Family early summer, which in different sections is also translated into " More wet — no more wet," " More wheat — no more wheat," and " Buck-wheat — no buck-wheat." The last is a close imitation and has a tinge of the dry humor of the typical farmer, who knows how fond the bird is of that useful grain. The rallying call, after a bevy has been scattered, is loud and vibrant with tender anxiety. A well-known authority puts it thus — Quoi-i-hee, quoi-i-hee ; others twist it into " Where-are-you ? Where-are-you ? " The writer's ear may be at fault, but to him it sounds very like Ka-loi-hee, Ka-loi- hee, especially when the old hen is doing the calling. There are many variations of it too, Wkoil-kee representing a common one. It is an open question if the cock utters this call, although some accomplished sportsmen have claimed that he does. The writer has been a close observer of quail and would think nothing of calling young birds almost to his feet, yet he has never been able to trace this call to the old male, that is, as a rallying call to the brood. He is well aware that young males use it in replying to the mother, but he has yet to see a male of more than one season utter it. Apropos, if during the mating season a good whistler will conceal himself and reply to the Bob-whiting of some amorous male, he can draw the bird across even a broad field. The small fellow will reply louder The Quail 23 and louder and will get madder and madder and will draw nearer and nearer until he is perhaps only a few yards distant and full of fight. Then let the whistler utter a defiant " Bob-white," and suddenly change to a low, tender Ka-loi-hee and note the effect upon Bob. In an instant he is a fussing, fuming, irresponsible small devil, racing here and there with dragging wings, and so ex- cited that he can hardly sputter out his challenges. A repetition of the Ka-loi-hee may bring him booming on reckless wings almost into the observer's face. Now, if this Ka-loi-hee be not a hen's call, and a suggestion to him that his hen is playing tricks with a stranger — " what's he f ussin' about?" The quail utters other sounds. While feeding it may be heard to twitter in a low, satis- fied sort of way. A winged bird running, or an un- injured one running from under brush, preparatory to taking wing, frequently voices a musical tick- tick-tick-a-voy. A bird closely chased by a hawk emits a sharp cackling, expressive of extreme terror. Quite frequently a bevy just before taking wing passes round a low, purring note — presumably a warning to spring all together. When the hen is calling to scattered young, she sometimes varies the cry to an abrupt Ko-lang, after which she re- mains silent for some time. This the writer believes to be a hint to the young to cease calling — that the danger still threatens, and is prompted 24 Tbe Partridge Family by her catching a glimpse of dog or man. A bevy travelling afoot keeps up what may be termed a twittering conversation, and there is a low alarm note, like a whispered imitation of the cry of a hen when a hawk appears. Toward the latter part of September, a spirit of restlessness appears to disturb the earlier broods which are then nearly fully grown. They shift about their native farm, being found now in one field, again in another. In a few days, in an average season about the first of October, this restlessness becomes more pronounced until it almost assumes the nature of a partial migration — if indeed it be not that in the proper sense of the term. The bevies appear to drift across coun- try, and for a week or so are very unsettled. This may be a trace of some old-time migrating habit, but that point had best be left to some purely scientific court. Certain it is that the birds travel sometimes for miles. It is this movement which causes so many bevies to suddenly appear in the gardens of villages, towns, and not infrequently within the lawn enclosures of important cities. Just why the birds travel is not readily explained. They are not in quest of food, for they will leave excellent ground only to finally locate, maybe miles away, upon ground not one whit better, while other quail will move into the vacated terri- tory. It is a curious movement and a matter The Quail 25 which even our shrewdest observers do not ap- pear to thoroughly understand. All the writer can say about it is that beyond question it takes place ; that it does not seem to be an easy staging toward suitable winter quarters, for the best of ground will be passed by, but rather an uneasy, haphazard drifting about the period of the turn- ing of the leaf. The theory that the disturbance by late harvesting operations, like corn-cutting, starts the birds moving will not hold, for they move from undisturbed territory the same as from any other. The only solution seems to be that the remote ancestors of the quail were migrants and that the old-time instinct has not yet been entirely eradicated. If we knew that the movement always trended in the one direction, the solution of the problem might be more easily attained, but unfortunately the proof of the birds' moving along any defined course appears to be lacking. The fact that these drifting birds seem to be in every case full-grown rather strengthens the theory out- lined. Nor is this theoretical migration to be confounded with the shorter movement toward cover as the cold weather asserts itself. This latter is merely a quest for the warmest available quarters, and is no more migration than is the movement of a fowl which roosts during autumn in an apple tree, but seeks the more comfortable fowl-house when the pinch of winter comes. 26 Tbe Partridge Family Quail, when undisturbed, are very regular in their habits, being in this respect not unlike domestic poultry. Shortly after sunrise they are busy seeking food, and after crops are well filled they seek the lounging and dusting places, there to rest and enjoy themselves until time for the afternoon foraging. As dusk approaches they move to the chosen sleeping place, and at this hour there is apt to be considerable calling from one to another. The "roost," if that term may be used, very frequently is in a mat of low cat- briers, or thickly growing weeds. In such shel- ter the birds squat upon the ground, usually in a rough circle with heads pointing out. This, pre- sumably, is a precautionary arrangement against a night attack by some prowling foe. Under ordinary conditions the bevy will return to the same spot for many nights in succession. Proof of this is furnished by the accumulation of droppings, which after a time become quite con- spicuous. The often advanced claim that quail always roost upon the ground is not true. As a rule they do, and in some sorts of country they must, but it is no uncommon thing to find them regularly roosting in such places as a mass of wild grape-vines attached to a fence or tree, in some thick, bushy tree, in an apple tree near the poultry, sometimes in the fowl-house, barn, or stable, on the lower rails of a weedy fence, on The Quail 27 top of logs, and occasionally on the bare rails of a fence. Only the belated sportsman, who has blundered upon them while trying to climb a fence in the dark, can rightly describe the thrill caused by the unexpected and thunderous flush. Speaking of noisy flight — a peculiarity of quail lies in the fact that the characteristic resonant " Burr-r-r ! " of the startled bird is not invariably heard when a single one, or a bevy, rises un- alarmed. The writer repeatedly has seen whole bevies flush with no more noise than might be caused by an equal number of sparrows, and single birds rising and flying toward a caller sel- dom if ever make any noticeable whirring. Again, when calling, he has seen birds silently rise and fly within a few yards, then sheer off on noisy wings as they caught sight of him. The same thing is true of that thunder-winged fellow, the ruffed grouse. It may be the noisy flush has a purpose in an attempt to momentarily startle and confuse an enemy. The habits of the quail vary with the weather and season. During windless, warm days, after the first flush, they will scatter and lie like so many stones. Should the day be very humid, or if rain be falling, they may refuse to lie at all and run like "quarter horses," perhaps for hundreds of yards, then flush wild, pitch, and again run on. In bleak, windy weather they are apt to be 28 The Partridge Family very wild, to refuse to lie to the best of dogs in the open, and to whizz away in long flight to the heavy timber. During a snow-storm, too, the chances are in favor of their acting in a most erratic manner. These are bad times for dog and man, and to make a good bag is well-nigh an impossibility. Under these conditions, too, they are given to that exasperating trick, tree- ing, after the first flush, and when quail take to the trees the sportsman's lot is not a happy one. The best thing a man can do then is to leave those birds for the day and seek another bevy; for he will not, of course, pot them as they sit, even should he be able to make them out, which is no easy matter in tall timber. A marked peculiarity attributed to the quail, and one over which many able writers have dis- agreed, is their alleged power of withholding body-scent at their discretion. " Can quail with- hold their scent ? " has been the subject of many an inky tourney. That they do voluntarily, or involuntarily, temporarily withhold body-scent has been claimed by many a veteran who has seen dogs of unquestioned high class utterly fail to locate birds where they have been marked down. The writer has seen such things happen — nay ! he has even seen a rare good dog actu- ally step on a bird and never dream of its pres- ence till it flushed under his belly, yet that did Tbe Quail 29 not prove any mysterious power on the bird's part of controlling its scent. The fact was that the quail in question had just completed what might be termed an air bath — a cleansing rush through pure air — it had pitched and squatted where it struck without running at all, thus leav- ing no foot-scent; it was badly scared and had its plumage compressed about it as tightly as possible, and all these things combined for the moment prevented the spread of the telltale odor. By squatting where it struck, the bird literally covered its tracks, i.e. it was over the spot where its feet had touched. Had it run even a few strides, the questing nose would surely have found the trail. The explanation that a dog, fresh from a point, may have his " nose so full of scent " that he is unable to detect a faint trail, is no explanation at all. Good dogs often point newly pitched quail while in the act of retrieving a bird just killed. A dog of the writer's, while holding a quail in his mouth with the wing directly across his nostrils, once pulled up on an- other bird which had not been in its hiding-place more than a minute. Then, if ever, would his nose have been " full of scent," yet he was able to pin the live bird, because in all probability it had run to its hiding-place. 30 Tbe Partridge Family THE SHOOTING OF THE QUAIL While " to teach the young idea how to shoot " is not the exact purpose of this chapter, perhaps a few remarks concerning the outfit and certain " wrinkles " anent field-shooting may not be out of place. So long as individual tastes differ there will be variations of opinion concerning that most important thing, — the gun. Many men prefer an exceedingly light arm, claiming, and this cor- rectly enough, that a light, small gauge calls for the greater skill, and, like the fragile, feather- weight trout rod, is the only thing fit for the hand of a master. That is all very well, but it may be carried too far. During the early part of the season, when birds are young and unedu- cated, when there is cover everywhere and a bird seldom flushes more than a yard or so from one's boot, almost any small gun will answer. At this time, too, the weather is apt to be warm, under which condition the reduction in weight of arm and ammunition is a decided advantage. The decrease in the killing range is then a matter of small consequence, for the great majority of shots, except second barrels, will be at thirty yards and under. This may appear very close, but a few actual measurements will verify the statement. In point of fact, the average kills of a fairly quick shot will be at a range of about twenty to twenty- Tbe Quail 31 five yards or less. At such a distance, the smallest of guns should, in good hands, prove sufficiently effective, but that is not the important point. If a gun be of fourteen, sixteen, or twenty gauge, it needs must be of first-class grade to be reliable and safe to use. Hence, a man must have a special gun for, say at a liberal estimate, the first half of the season ; and later on, after the birds have become educated and the cover is not so abundant, the shooting range is materially in- creased, whereupon the small gun is at once at a disadvantage. Worse than that, entirely owing to lack of power, the use of it in skilled hands is certain to mean a lot of wounded birds. Then, again, the small gun is good only for close-rising quail, woodcock, and snipe, which means that a second, heavier gun must be kept for all-round work. In this event, the change of arm is not calculated to improve one's shooting. Another disadvantage of the smaller guns lies in the diffi- culty of procuring suitable ammunition in an emergency. Of course, the resident of a large city may readily buy shells of any size and load, but quail-shooting is not a characteristic sport of the streets of a large city. The best of it is found where stores are few and rush orders not a specialty ; hence, an accident or a misdirected package may mean the ruination of a hard-earned holiday. Any mishap to the man using the odd- 32 The Partridge Family sized gun may prove a genuine disaster, while the man with the twelve-gauge may restock from any country store, or, if in the field, borrow from his comrade or any one he may meet. The reader will readily understand the importance of these points, and when it is remembered that the sole advantage of the smaller gun lies in the trifling reduction of weight, the choice becomes a simple matter. I have tried arms by many makers and of all practical sizes, and I unhesitatingly recom- mend a twelve-gauge, by a first-class firm and of weight, etc., to suit the individual. If the novice decides to purchase the best obtainable he will make no mistake, for a really fine gun, like a fine watch, properly cared for, should last a lifetime. It should, of course, be a hammerless ejector, the safest and most efficient gun now available, and if it weigh between seven and eight pounds it will be the proper thing for ninety-nine out of one hundred men. Equally, of course, the powder should be of the smokeless brand, for the less suspicion of smoke the better for the chances of the second barrel, particularly in cover-shooting and upon dark, humid days. The costume is also worthy of attention. One of the best consists of medium-weight, dead-grass color duck for coat, vest, and pants, and duck or felt hat, or a corduroy cap to match. The boots should be of the recognized shooting pattern, The Quail 33 waterproof if possible, but above all they should fit. A man on a long tramp is like a horse ; he is only as good as his feet, and hardly too much care can be exercised over the boots and socks. All underwear should be of light, pure woollen fabric, which will prevent chill after a wetting or during a long ride. The handiest place for the shells is an outside pocket, for if the coat be properly made the weight of them will not inter- fere with free action of the arms. Bags, belts, and vest devices for carrying shells come under the general head of infernal nuisances. And now an extremely important question, — the dog ! So long as he be a free ranger, of good nose, intelligent, and properly broken, he may be either pointer or setter. Both are good, equally good, taking the season through. By reason of his coat the pointer is better for warm weather, and he can travel on less water than the setter, while for the same reason he seldom is so good for cold, rough work, especially in thorny cover or coarse grass. In actual merit, including bird sense, speed, nose, and staying qualities — in fine, every hunting quality — they rank about even. The pointer is apt to be the better for the man who can only occasionally go afield, as he will keep steady on less work, while to all but a pointer man, the setter is the more beautiful and companionable dog. Of the merits of the 34 The Partridge Family three prominent breeds, Llewellin, Irish, and Gor- don, a little may here be said appropriately — possibly their proper rank should be in order as named. Breeders of the modern Llewellin setter, encour- aged by the racing methods of field trials, have bred for a combination of speed and style likely to catch a judge's eye. They have lost a deal of the beauty of the original type, as exemplified by famous old Llewellins and Laveracks, but they have produced a racing machine, and what fre- quently is certainly a rare good dog for an athletic and keen man. The typical Llewellin now is a compact bundle of running gear, not so desirable a companion maybe, but certainly a bird finder. The actual value of the type depends upon the individual called upon to give the decision. Many sportsmen would prefer the handsomer and per- haps staider animals of a few years ago. The development of a breed to a point where we find two types, — one to look at, the other to race, — i.e. " bench type " and " field type," may or may not -for the best interests of that breed. The Irish setter, as he should be, is a strong, intelligent, wiry dog, somewhat hard to break and control, but a rare good one when firmly and wisely handled. The chief objection to him as a field worker is based upon his color. However beautiful the true mahogany red may be, it is Tbe Quail 35 extremely difficult to locate when the dog is halted among rotten logs, stumps, and cover wherein various shades of red and brown predominate. The same objection applies to the Gordon, to the all-black, all-roan, or to any other coat inconspicu- ous in color. Of course, in the open, the coat is not so important, but in average quail-shooting work in cover represents fully three-fourths of the task ; hence, the best coat is a conspicuous mix- ture of dark and white, which may be easily seen both in thick cover and against a snowy back- ground. Quail-shooting, early in the season, is compara- tively easy. The birds flush almost underfoot, they fly only moderately fast, and they cannot carry off much shot. The chief obstacle to good scores is thick cover; were it not for this, an ordinarily good shot should grass about three- fourths of his birds. Later on it is different; then half the birds, taking them in and out of cover, would be an excellent average for the sea- son. A few suggestions to the novice may not be out of place. First, if you have a good dog, let him alone — keep your eye on him, but let him run. Avoid all bawling of commands, because the sound of the voice is apt to cause an untimely flush when otherwise the bevy might have lain close. Direct the dog by whistle and signals — birds 36 The Partridge Family appear to pay no attention to the shrilling of a dog whistle. Send a dog into a field from the lee side whenever possible, then naturally he will beat up wind with everything in his favor as it should be. He will go up- wind to his birds (the first time anyway), so, if you prefer a straightaway shot, you may go up-wind to the dog and thus secure it in the majority of cases. Cultivate the habit of examining the ground near your feet, while at the same time not losing track of the dog's move- ments. The droppings and dusting places of the birds are at once detected by a practised eye, and there may be a shed feather here and there which will give you a line on. the age of the bevy. Should the dog seem to find scent, yet fail to locate, study the lay of the land, particularly the nearest cover. If the ground " sign," as just mentioned, indicates that birds frequent the field, the chances are that while the dog has found scent, the birds are elsewhere. They may have been recently flushed by some one belonging in the neighborhood, by a hawk, or some four-footed foe — perhaps a cat. In any event they will almost certainly have gone to cover, and probably are not more than three or four hundred yards away. Of course dog tracks, footprints, or empty shells will indicate that somebody has worked the piece ahead of you. If no sound of shooting comes from the cover, it is open to you ; but if The Quail 37 you hear shooting, don't rush over and plunge into some other man's sport. There is no harm, how- ever, in a gentlemanly investigation and a sports- manlike meeting with the other fellow. You may make a charming acquaintance and double forces for the day to mutual advantage. But in true field courtesy the rights of the situation are his, and no sportsman will go into action without an invitation from the man working on the game. These little matters are well worth attention, for the observance of the unwritten law is what dis- tinguishes the sportsman from the fellow out gunning. Let us imagine the opening day of an average season, — bright warm weather, the leaves still on all growths, and the usual crop of weeds and burrs up to standard. The sun has been up two hours, and two men and one good dog are ready for business. The ground to be worked is typical of the East, divided into medium-sized fields, which means many fences with weedy cover about them and a tree here and there along the side-lines. A rough classification of the fields would be one- fourth wheat-stubble, one-fourth standing corn, one- fourth rough pasture, and the remaining fourth a combination of stump-lot, thicket, and standing timber. Of such is the kingdom of — rare good quail country ! that is, it is, or should be. If there happen to be a trifle of air stirring, so much the 38 The Partridge Family better, but the seasonable lack of it will not greatly matter. From the top of the fence you scan the ground and decide upon how it may best be worked. You, being wiser than your comrade, elect yourself to the presidency with full powers to force any emergency legislation and to veto anything that doesn't suit your book. Because it is still early, you know that the quail may not have finished breakfast, so you order a skirmish through the stubble. You take the collar off the dog, to prevent a useless drag, or a possible hang- ing at some fence, and bid him, " Hi on ! " As he darts away you slip into the weather berth, i.e. upon the right of your comrade, if he be a right-handed man. Some overlook the marked advantages of this position, but you will not do so because you know that should your companion accidentally discharge his gun the shot can hardly come anywhere near you. It is better so, as it is better in case of accidents that the other fellow should prove pattern, penetration, and whatever else may be decided. An artist in his line will walk along the big furrow at the windward side of the field and will keep a keen eye on the ground for the telltale whitish droppings. Meanwhile, the dog is cutting out his ground to signal by whistle and hand, and presently he slows a bit, perhaps lowers his nose, and by increased stern action The Quail 39 shows that he has found scent. Then up goes his head and there begins that beautiful and impressive movement " reading," or " drawing," which ends with the confident "point," which never fails to stir the very heartstrings of a true sportsman. Your dog has them ; and now see that you prove your superior intelligence by aid- ing instead of bothering him. There is no occasion for quickening your pace, or for any of the foolishness of which too many men are guilty. Don't bawl at the dog, or go tearing through the stubble as though you im- agined the dog to be an unreliable fool. Your voice may cause the birds to flush, and any show of excitement will only shake the dog's sublime confidence in your superiority and perhaps make him unsteady. Keep your eye on him, and should he appear to be wavering, steady him with a low " To-ho ! " otherwise keep your mouth shut. Ten to one he'll hold the point, for both dogs and horses appear to understand when they are im- plicitly trusted, and to behave their best in return. Still keeping to the right of your comrade, move steadily forward. The rustle of approaching feet may possibly cause the dog to twitch a bit, but a low caution will remedy that. Should he show signs of an inclination to break point, check him sharply and make him hold it for a few minutes while you wait. This discipline is good for him 40 The Partridge Family and not bad for you, indeed a regular dose of it may prevent serious faults. As a general rule birds found as described will flush when the guns have approached within a few yards. As they go up the dog should go down, and remain down until ordered up. Most dogs are broken to drop to wing and to shot, i.e. to go down upon their bellies. This prevents any attempt at chasing or other fool capers, and so far is a useful accom- plishment. There are, however, objections to it. A dog down flat cannot see what is going on, and when his head is buried in thick and perhaps dusty growth, he gets the least pure air at a time when he needs the most. For these reasons the writer's dogs are allowed to sit down instead of dropping. In this position they get all the air they need, they can see the kills, and, more important, mark down whichever birds may be only wounded, or unwounded birds that may have caught their eye. Some dogs become very clever at marking down, and this extra accomplishment frequently proves extremely valuable. It is an unwritten law among sportsmen that there should be no cross-firing. The man on the left is supposed to shoot at birds going to the left, or at those at the left of the bevy should it drive straight away. The man on the right governs himself accordingly, which prevents that annoy- ing thing, two guns discharged at the same bird, The Quail 41 or, that still more annoying misunderstanding about who scored. Systematic shooting is not only more pleasant, but it bags more birds, as can be readily imagined. When only one bird is expected, true courtesy will prompt the better shot to allow his companion the first chance, or if the men be equally good marksmen, the host should give the first chance to his guest. In so doing virtue may be its own reward, for there is nothing in the articles of war to prevent a strictly courteous man from wiping a duffer's eye the moment after he has missed ! When a doubt exists as to what may flush, " Your bird," or " Take the bird " from one or the other will settle the point. And it is well to observe these small matters, for some excel- lent men are hasty when their blood is up, especially after they have missed a few times. True sports- manship never touches a man on a raw spot. Good-natured chaff is all very well, but a rather dangerous form of amusement in the field, where a single injudicious remark may mar the pure pleasure of an hour, or perchance of a day. There are many men who cannot score regularly on bevies, while they are able to perform quite creditably on single birds which they walk up for themselves. The reason for this usually is nervousness, partly due to the close proximity of the second gun, and partly to the startling flush of a number of birds together. In nine 42 The Partridge Family cases out of ten, a nervous man shoots too quickly. He is so worked up and so full of what he intends to do, that he pulls trigger before the gun is where it should be and then, if he uses the second barrel, he rattles it in some- where about the general direction. This, of course, is no way to shoot, and a comical feature about it is that every now and then the haphazard method kills — possibly on a certain lucky day, for several times in succession. Then the nervous man grows idiotically enthusiastic, and declares that he has just caught the hang of it. On some other day he begins by missing, gets rattled, and makes a mess of things generally, whereupon he adds to his excitement by losing his temper and usually winds up by fluently cursing the dog, or the gun, or the shells. Young sportsmen should remem- ber that exhibitions of temper and foolish attempts at explanation are sure indications of inferior skill and bad manners. In crisp contrast is the vet- eran's perhaps mirthful " I was behind," or " too low," in explanation of his failure. He well knows where lay the fault, and instead of prat- ing about it, forms a grim resolve to remedy it the next opportunity. There is no need for undue haste in quail shooting in the open. The birds, as a rule, rise within a few yards, more often than not from almost under foot, and almost invariably their The Quail 43 speed is overestimated even by old hands at the game. A little stepping-off of the ground after the kill will prove this. What looked like forty- five yards will turn out to be about ten yards less, and it holds good of shorter distances. Indeed, a quail actually forty odd yards from the gun would appear to be a very long shot. In cover, the great majority of shots are at a range less than thirty yards. If any one doubt this, let him hang up a bird, then step off thirty yards, and turn and look. What he sees will teach him some- thing about distances in cover. The first bird (early in the season) to show above the cover is apt to be the old hen. This is because she is surely the strongest and wisest of the lot and the natural leader. Presumably, too, she it is who gives the signal when to take wing, else it would be hard to account for the almost even start which all usually get. Later in the season she frequently is last away, but that is another matter. She has the noisiest wing, and she is likely to show larger than the others. Pick her out, if you can (trained eyes can do it), and knock her over there and then. Never mind the others, give her both barrels if required, but stop her ! The reason for this is simple enough. A number, perhaps the majority of the bevy, assuredly will follow her to cover and will pitch near where she does. So long as she is with 44 The Partridge Family them, the young birds will neither call nor respond to the most clever imitation of the rally- ing pipe. With her out of the way, the young- sters are like so many lost lambs, only too ready to respond to even a crude imitation of the loved voice of their shepherd. The habit of looking for the old hen has another value. It helps a man to learn how to pick his birds — a most important feature of steady shooting. When he can do this, and has learned to lead all quarterers according to distance, to hold high on straighta- ways about as high as his head, low on low-flying straightaways and dead on incomers, and to pull trigger with the finger and not with the hand and arm, and to do it without stopping the smooth swing of the gun, — he should be quite a quail shot. Just after the bevy has gone, and when one or more birds are down, is when the novice or the over excitable man makes serious blunders. The first thing to do is to stand in your tracks and reload, the dog meanwhile being down. Keep him so for the moment, then calmly order 'him on, either to retrieve, or to point dead, according to his training. Few novices realize the full importance of a leisurely, methodical deportment Dogs are clever judges of character, and a brainy brute is quick to measure his man. Any undue excitement, or flurried haste to secure the game, The Quail 45 will give the dog the tip that he is out with a man with whom he may take liberties, and he surely will act upon it. This is why so many dogs, which are paragons of perfection when under the eyes of their trainer, act so unruly when loaned for a day or so ; this is why, too, an otherwise faultily good-natured man will sternly refuse to loan his dog. To dog owners the writer would earnestly say, — never lend a fine dog, except to a man who knows more about dogs than you do, and even then make sure that the borrower understands your methods and words of command, else he may start talking what, to the poor dog, may sound like Chinook, or Chinese, or Esquimaux, or anything that is utterly unintelli- gible. A dog is a poor linguist, and for this and other good reasons the fewer and more sharply distinct the words of command, the better. Never roar at a dog, you are supposed to be the more intelligent animal of the two ; and if you never bawl your commands, the dog will never guess that you possess the power to do so, and in the field he will heed a firmly quiet command as though it were the harshest you were capable of delivering. Also omit the too common cursing. The dog is clean-minded, and so does not under- stand ; while a volley of profanity can only kill the man's self-control, and possibly some of his fun in the Happy Hunting-grounds. Keep all 46 The Partridge Family conversation with the dog clean and crisply short — he will then better grasp your meaning. A loud-voiced, foul-mouthed man is unfit company for a true sportsman. In the event of a bird being winged, and what is termed "a runner," keep the dog firmly in hand, unless he has already been ordered to retrieve. In that event, of course, he should be allowed to do his best to carry out the original order. Too much chasing of runners is bad for most dogs ; in a majority of cases it probably would be better to lose the bird than to rattle the dog by a scuffling pursuit. Especially is this true of young dogs, for in their excitement over perhaps a flying catch, they are apt to develop an undesirable hardness of mouth. Old, wise fellows may safely be allowed considerably more liberty. Above all, let the man control himself. The sight of a joint pursuit by a team composed of a maniac and a temporarily rabid animal is, to say the least, somewhat depressing. Another and a most important matter following the first flushing of the bevy is " marking down," i.e. keeping a sharp eye on the birds, and carefully noting just where they pitch. Attention to this is most valuable, not alone in the saving of time, but as a preventative against uselessly working a dog over ground far from the hidden quarry. Some men become masters of marking. They The Quail 47 shoot with both eyes wide open, which is much the better way, because they can keep track of the movements of more birds than the one aimed at. Such men see everything there is to be seen ; they can distinguish cocks from hens in full flight ; their field of vision is broader and truer than can possibly be commanded by the man who closes one eye ; in consequence, they are apt to be consistent performers and most useful and entertaining companions. They are the men who while shooting well can always tell you where your bird fell or if you killed, when you are in doubt. They know just where the birds have pitched, where the stragglers, if any, have gone, and, in fact, all about everything worth knowing. It is a wise plan to shoot cocks in preference to hens whenever the choice rests with the gun, with the single exception of the old hen referred to. In the case of crossing birds, the distinction is easy enough, and the intentional sparing of a hen now and then really is some- thing akin to a good investment. As a general rule, there are more cocks than hens in a bevy, and the killing-off of the cocks is apt to be followed by a more peaceful, hence more pro- ductive, breeding season. When a hen goes whirring away by herself, as frequently happens, and pitches at a point a safe distance from where the main flight has gone, she should not be fol- 48 The Partridge Family lowed. A little of this wise forbearance now and then will do much to keep up the stock of game. It was once the writer's fortune to enjoy a month's outing with one of those royal good fellows, a British sportsman-soldier of the genu- ine stripe — a high-bred, accomplished, game man, who has since proved his heroism to the reading world. He had shot in most corners of creation, but he wanted to learn about quail. One day things were unsatisfactory, as they sometimes will be, and a hard morning's work had accomplished nothing. At last the dog pulled up in grand style on my side of the beat. In reply to a hail, the captain signalled to go on and flush. There were but two birds, both hens, and they were allowed to depart in peace. " What was the matter, old chap ? " he asked. "You should have stopped that brace." " Seed hens," was the reply. " S-e-e-d h-e-n-s ! Why, what the devil are seed hens? " was his amazed query. The mystery was explained, and from his ex- perience with pheasants he had learned to appre- ciate that sort of thing, but the term " seed hens " greatly amused him. Every now and then he'd mutter the words over, and his mighty shoulders would shake with mirth. Later in the day there was lively sport and a hot, impromptu race, for both guns were at their best. At last a brief The Quail 49 halt was called for a bite, after which he pulled out nearly a score of fine birds for inspection. He was as happy as a big, care-free boy, for he had shot in perfect form, and was delighted with his new game ; but suddenly his merry comments ceased, and his face crimsoned. He had just noticed the brown throats of half his prizes, and a horrible thought troubled him. "Great h-e-a-v-e-n-s ! " he gasped, "I've been shooting hens — s-e-e-d h-e-n-s!" He looked as though he wished the earth would open and take him in, but fortunately the remedy was at hand. A quick showing of the other bag, which contained a fair proportion of both sexes, reassured him ; but, as he expressed it, he had had " a bad turn." When the outing was done, he went back to his regiment, and was in all probability the best quail shot on the roll. Years passed, and his regiment, with many an- other, was in the field. A town full of women and children was besieged and in desperate straits. There was a forced march to the rescue. Later to the writer came a letter addressed in a perfectly villanous scrawl. The writing inside was worse, and it ran — "Dear old Chap — Pardon left maulie — I lost the other and a lot of the arm. Must practise one-handed. But we saved the s-e-e-d h-e-n-s!" He had not forgotten during all those years. What the women he so gallantly 50 The Partridge Family rescued might think of that note doesn't matter. The young sportsman who aspires to become a crack quail shot should pay heed to the rally- ing call, and learn to imitate it to perfection. Any one possessed of an ear can easily master it. For short distances, whistling through the lips alone will admirably serve ; but for long-range calling the writer inserts the tips of thumb and finger between his lips and produces a sound which may be distinctly heard for a quarter of a mile or more. There need be no fear of calling too loudly, provided it be correctly done. A quail close at hand raises an astonishing row. After the first flush, the birds generally speed to their favorite cover ; and once within its shelter, if the day be fair, they will lie like stones. As a usual thing, the cover of the North consists oi one of the following: a bit of wood; a thicket of tall, slim saplings ; a field of standing corn ; a patch of briers ; a fence overgrown with vines and tangled stuff; a big slashing, with fallen trunks and stumps and piles of brush here, there, and everywhere; a large, dry ditch with overhang- ing grass at the sides and a thick, short growth of weeds at the bottom ; a " dirty " field, i.e. one wild with burrs, thistles, etc., waist-high; the brushy banks of a stream; a bit of almost dried marsh, and last, but not least, the broad, frequently briery ditches either side of a railroad track. The Quail 51 Here is, indeed, an infinite variety, and the man who can score fairly well in all of it is to be envied. Now the working of it : the first thing is to take a smoke, a pleasant way of allowing time for the scent to become good. If the birds have taken to the woods, but have not treed, they will be found under logs, in the crannies of roots, or among the leaves on the ground. Such condi- tions frequently mean many fair chances, but sometimes in a baffling light. The method of beating should be the same as in the open, with the exception that the dog may be made to work closer with advantage. Not infrequently a brace or so will be promptly located, but there will be a difficulty in finding the major portion. After a fair trial has failed, call in the dog, go back near where the bevy was flushed, and begin calling loudly. The old hen has been bagged, and you are playing her role. Do not call too much. Make it so — Ka-urt-Hee 7 Ka-i.oi'-kee / Ka-i.oi'- hee ! — three times (emphasize second syllable), and occasionally four, and with the proper pause between. Indistinct and too hurried calling sounds like a young bird, which, while it may elicit a response from some impatient youngster, lacks the magic of the message from the old hen. If this oft-recurring old lady has not been already conveniently killed, she may presently pipe up 52 The Partridge Family from somewhere. If so, get after and exterminate her as promptly as may be, for the craftiest of imitators cannot compete with the real thing. The reason why she must now be killed is because otherwise she will gather the lot around her within a few minutes, whereupon the next flush becomes precisely what you don't want, — a bevy flush, — and most likely a further flight into what may prove most troublesome cover. As each bird answers, mark its place by the sound, then send the dog about his business. No fear now about the scent. When a bird calls, it has moved, — it won't call from its hiding-place, — and once it has moved it has betrayed itself to the dog. The rest will depend upon the guns. Have the birds gone to thicket or other stuff too tall to see over and so thick as to render shooting extremely difficult ? Then there are two ways open. One, the honest man's way, is to smash boldly in, to keep the agreed-upon distance from your friend, and to beat squarely through. This means a rake across the nose every now and then from some thorny growth, a tripping over briers, an occasional difficult shot, and a little — just a little — spicy talk when a bird roars up between your legs and whisks away where you cannot possibly cover it. This is the honest man's way. The other way, the — well, let us call it the experienced man's way — is to agree The Quail 53 upon a line, to crash boldly in, to noisily progress for a few yards, or until you reach a convenient opening, and then to sneak up on to a stump or log from which you can command a fair sweep all about, and from this stronghold to plug every quail that the other fellow drives within range. You are up in the air a bit, but you're on his right, so he can't shoot you, while you retain the glorious privilege of bagging him any time you care to. Does he anxiously bawl to you, after your second shot betrays the fact that you haven't stirred a peg ? What do you care ? You bawl back that you're looking for a bird — which you are — aren't you? looking for every bird that gets up. In a field of standing corn, the experienced man has to be more careful. Shot will go through a lot of corn, so the best he can do is first, to agree upon following a certain space between the rows, and then to keep, in yachting parlance, " eating to windward " of the dog. This will give him cross shots of his stealing, in addi- tion to straightaways of his own flushing, and possibly an extra cross shot from his comrade when he gets on to the game ! The fair way is for each to take a row about twenty yards apart and to stick to it to the other end of the growth, then take new rows and beat back. You follow the rows because it is easier going, and the view 54 Tbe Partridge Family is clearer. Shoot at every bird you see, and in emergency just ahead of where a bird has disap- peared. This is quick, snappy work, but corn won't stop shot, and the expert kills bird after bird by means of this fascinating guesswork. It frequently is a profitable thing to hang a small bell to a dog's neck for work in tall corn. The birds do not mind the bell, the sound of which tells where the dog is, while the stopping of the tinkle indicates a point. Frequently in corn and other cover you find the dog stanchly pointing and yourself in a commanding position, the par- ticular advantages of which may be lost by a single step in any direction. With a dog that does not flush to order, this is an awkward situation, for the bird will not rise unless compelled to. It may be remedied by an energetic imitation of the " Whir-r-r " of a rising bird. This is done by ex- pelling the breath so as to cause the tongue to flutter rapidly. The sound produced will very frequently start the birds within hearing of it, and the wrinkle is worth remembering. The methods of good shots vary. Many make it a rule to stick to the first large bevy found, which may mean an entire day's shooting within the confines of a single farm. The writer doesn't believe in such tactics. To stick to one or two bevies, and to patiently and laboriously beat them up by going over the ground again and again, is The Quail 55 what may be termed too narrow a system. It gets birds, 'tis true, but the mere getting of birds is only a minor part of quail-shooting. A broader plan is to outline a route at starting which will include a pleasant section of country, and to endeavor to cover it all before the light fails. This is apt to involve a series of skirmishes with perhaps half a dozen or more bevies, and truly this is the best of quail-shooting. The man who is out for pure sport and healthful, vigorous exer- cise need not fear a long tramp. The policy of here a little and there a little, will lead him through miles of pleasant places, will give him a broader knowledge of the country, and will keep him from that crime of crimes — exterminating a bevy. The man who hunts too closely leaves desolation in his wake. It is of him the farmer says, — " Some feller from town was out here 'tother day an' cleaned 'em all up — never left one ! " Such a man is not a sportsman in the true sense of that term. The reader may rest assured that the man who kills sparingly is wise. " Who kills a few, then tramps away, Finds welcome true another day," is a bit of jingle which might well be committed to memory. Apropos of this point, old shooters know, and young ones must learn, that the farmer may be made the sportsman's best friend. All that 56 The Partridge Family is necessary for the consummation of this satisfac- tory relationship is the exercise of ordinary common sense on the part of the man from town. Because a man may happen to wear rough clothes, and to be slow and quaint of speech, are no signs that he also is a fool. In point of fact, he usually is a shrewder judge of human nature than is the average city man ; and the young " town feller " who thinks to " jolly " him, or in any way to overreach him, is liable to fall into woful error. The " Rube " of the comic papers is a very far-fetched individual. The city may be strange to him ; but in the country he is all there, and in his own quiet way is frequently almost sorry for the greenness of his friend from town. He has his rights, he knows what they comprise, and, as a rule, all he asks of a stranger is a proper observance of them. This point he rightly insists upon. The sportsman, therefore, being a gentleman, and realizing that he enters upon a man's land only by courtesy of the owner, will not forget the proprieties. He will carefully replace bars should he have let them down, he will close all gates be- hind him, he will keep his dog under proper con- trol, and allow no scaring of stock or poultry ; should he snap a fence-rail in crossing, he will promptly repair the damage, and he will not fire his gun where either the report or the charge can cause the least bit of trouble or damage. If he The Quail 57 be at all in doubt about his being welcome on a man's place, he will go in a manly, straightforward fashion to the house, and ask permission to shoot over the farm. The careful observance of these little matters is what secures that valuable fran- chise — the freedom of a good shooting district. There are " wrinkles " in this connection, too. A cheery greeting along the road costs nothing, and greases a heap of gear. A small bundle of maga- zines and papers, stale to you, but treasures in the back country, costs only a trifle of trouble, and will be appreciated, never fear ; while the offer of a fair share of the bag at the close of the day at once stamps the maker of it as a man of the proper brand. It is a perfectly safe offer, too, for only once has the writer known it to be smilingly accepted. On that occasion the last leg of the homeward trip was by canoe, and upon disem- barking the old dog kept nosing about the stern of the craft as though something good lay there. It was good — nay, rich ! for it proved to be a bundle which contained the proffered birds, a nice, red, beautifully polished apple, and — a nursing- bottle, full of the sweetest milk. The only fault about the bottle was that the nose was plugged with a pellet of dough. The writer hadn't used a nursing-bottle for forty years, but he had delight- ful recollections. So he squeezed out the bit of dough, munched the apple, and drank the milk 58 The Partridge Family (which was all right), according to his youthful teaching. Next day he solemnly returned the bottle, and described his set-to with it. A pair of very bright eyes at once examined the rubber tube, then a very red face left the room. The old farmer laughed till he cried, then asked his wife, " D'ye believe he done it ? " whereupon that wise old soul wagged her gray head in an ecstasy of bliss, and cackled out: "I'll bet he done it! The joke's on darter ! O dear ! O dear ! " There was free shooting on that farm ever after, and the good-will of those worthy old souls helped to secure valuable privileges on adjacent lands. The surly farmer and the seldom-met, downright mean one are different propositions, yet they can be manipulated. Once there was a mean farmer — just an ornery cuss — who never shot, didn't love birds, but was just mean on general principles. There was a big thicket at the back of his place, and it was full of quail, and late in the fall there were woodcock there too. In the nearest town was a prosperous grain merchant ; his specialty was barley, and his influence had induced a few farmers, including the mean one, to forbid shoot- ing on their lands, that he might reap the benefit. He had a confidential man whose business it was to keep tabs on the barley crop. This man was about the country a good deal, and he slightly resen The Quail 59 resembled the writer. He couldn't shoot worth sour apples, but he occasionally carried a gun. One day he tried to borrow the writer's favorite dog. A prompt refusal was the first impulse ; but a brilliant idea prevented what would have been a mistake. The dog was loaned ; the man had about an hour's featherless shooting ; but when he returned he was enthusiastic over the hosts of birds he had seen. He had a peculiar pair of extra long leggins, and these the writer borrowed for next day, partly to get square for the loan of the dog, and partly to help out a nefarious scheme. In those days smokeless powder was a novelty; but the writer had seventy-five shells loaded with it. When I started afield, conspicuous leggins and all, and with the identical dog, I bore no slight resemblance to the other fellow. The farmer, I knew, would be working in a certain field, so I decided to give him a friendly hail from the road, which meant a pretty safe distance. The farmer shouted back: "Hello! Back agin, hey? — all right ! " Then, indeed, was there fast footing to that thicket, and a rapid fire action of the hottest kind. The new shells were discreetly silent, and the chastened, holy joy of the scheme made the gun strangely accurate. I guessed the farmer didn't understand the intricacies of a modern shooting coat, so, with 60 The Partridge Family twenty birds concealed about my person, as it were, and with a brace ostentatiously held by the legs, I passed out within plain view. In response to the expected hail of, " Git any ? " I held up the two, and then smiled resignedly as the farmer roared after me: " Ye'd best put more stuff in them shells o' yourn. Ye was lucky to git airy one ! " Later, the farmer chaffed the grain man about his poor showing, and — would you believe it ? — that grain man actually had the nerve to try and lie out of it, and swore he had never gone back for a second trial. It is possible, too, to cir- cumvent an overmean farmer by quietly beating his ground, and, without any shooting, driving the birds on to the next farm, and there " giving them beans." It has been whispered that some men have a nasty habit of calling, gun in hand, on a farmer, and pretending that they are interested in the purchase of grain, or stock, or fruit — any of which is to be delivered later on to some well-known firm. The presence of the gun is explained in some simple way, — u Am no hunter, you know, but thought I might see a hawk, or crow, or squirrel, or mebbe might get a pretty bird for the wife's hat," and so on. This, occasionally, draws the coveted invitation, and the quail catch it. It's no bad wrinkle, for it is a simple matter to make a gauzy arrangement with some reputable firm, Tbe Quail 61 that will gladly purchase farm products at the regular market price. When the average farmer has once opened his heart, he is your friend, and the wise sportsman will take care not to lose him. To return to the field proper. A couple of useful wrinkles are as follows: when the birds go to brush heaps, as they often will, and the dog has pointed, it may be well to appear stupid and to appeal to the other fellow for advice. Some men love to show their superior knowledge, and your comrade may nibble at your bait, and promptly illustrate the proper method of getting a bird out of brush — which is by jumping on the pile. He gets the bird out of the brush, but you get the shot nine times out of ten. Have the birds gone to a long, weedy, vine- tangled fence? Tact is valuable here. The windward side is the choice position, because the dog will go to leeward of the cover, and, naturally, fully three-fourths of the birds will go out the other side, which means that the man on that side will get the cream of the shooting. You will keep this point in mind and will suffer your comrade to reach the fence first. Nine men out of ten want to stick close to the dog, so when he goes over, your friend is almost certain to follow. Of course, you never tell him to go that side, — that would be unsportsmanlike, — but there is a way of stopping to fiddle with a leggin, or a shoe- 62 Tbe Partridge Family string, when he is most impatient, and so practi- cally force him over in advance. Once over, he has to stay there, and not one green hand in one thousand will ever reason out why you get the most shots. In beating a ditch, especially a railroad ditch, the choice place is in the middle of it ; for the cover is seldom very high, and the nature of the ground is all in the gun's favor, as most of the birds will follow the ditch and afford the fair- est of chances. When the banks are high, one man must keep up where he can see all about, and mark down lost birds. The experienced man usually sees that the other fellow has this task. Old hands know all about these fine points, and they are merely referred to here for the bene- fit of a novice, who, if he be wise, will bear them all in mind. Perhaps my present attitude some- what resembles the tactics of the card-sharper, who goes about exposing the tricks of gamblers, yet the motive is good. Needless to say, by far the better way, in fact the only sportsmanlike way, is to insist upon a fair and square sharing of all hard work, rough beats, and choice posi- tions. It is no credit to anybody to get the better of a game in which a raw 'un is pitted against a master hand. True sportsmanship prefers a difficult problem, and there is ever more satisfac- tion in winning against the odds than with them. Sharp practice is the deadly foe to sport; yet The Quail 63 it is astonishing how far some men will go in their eagerness to make the heaviest bag. An instance of this may be referred to. A certain, or rather a very uncertain, man of great ability and high social position once invited the writer to join him for a day's quail-shooting. He furnished the trap, dog, and lunch, and during the drive out and three-fourths of the shooting he was as pleasant a host as man could desire. The sport proved excellent and by mid-afternoon the bag was a heavy one, the writer having two or three birds the better of it. In following the game a series of thickets was entered, a peculiar- ity of the growth being that, while very dense and baffling from about waist-high upward, it was comparatively open below, as though the spot had been at one time under water. While the guns were some distance apart, an unexpected grouse roared up directly in front of the writer. The shot was an extremely difficult one, — a guess through the leaves, — yet there was that peculiar feeling which tells a man when he is exactly right. It was followed by a distant thump on the ground and a somewhat prolonged buzzing of wings. This induced the writer to squat down and peer away through an opening below the roof-like cover. He saw the wings of the grouse as it struggled, and in a moment a boot followed by a hand came into view. The 64 The Partridge Family hand picked up the bird, and a moment later a shot rang out, followed by a cry of, " I got him ! " It was a startling revelation, for there was no mistaking act or motive. Nothing was said on either side, but one brain did a deal of thinking. At the end of what otherwise would have been a perfect day, the sole retort was the presentation of the entire bag with the remark, " You value them more than most men, and no doubt can find plenty of use for them." That ended the matter, but never again did the man propose a joint de- bate of the game question. He must have guessed, for he couldn't see. The chances are that he later thought that one grouse rather a high-priced fowl. It was a mighty fine bird, too ! NEAR THE END OF THE SEASON This is the time beloved of the skilled and vigorous quail-shooter. The birds are at their best — strong, full-feathered, and educated in the hard school of experience. They go to cover like so many cannon-balls, to be stopped only by the man whose eyes and hands work in the most perfect unison. There is a tang to the air which makes a fellow feel like stepping off five miles an hour, while a dog can work hard all day and keep his tongue in his mouth. Scent, as a rule, is of the best; the leaves are down, so that what a month before was baffling cover is now only suf- The Quail 65 ficiently difficult to thoroughly test one's skill. The sole fault of the season is that days are short — all too short, when men and dogs are full of " ginger " and " go." At the first flush, birds may be trusted to whizz away to the worst cover in the neighborhood, for they have settled upon their winter quarters — the best shelter, hence the hardest cover to shoot in. But what of that ? A clean kill now is more gratifying than were three of the easier time, and the birds are apt to lie very close after being scattered. Every now and then there comes a clear, still, warm day, when woods and thicket are flooded with light. This is the day of days. The magic of it makes a fellow feel like sparring a few rounds, running a race, mixing in a promis- cuous scuffle, or just yelling in sheer exuberance of animal spirits. If after a two or three mile sharp walk as a pipe-opener he doesn't shoot in his best form, — and he'll have need to, — he'd best get him to a hennery, for domesticity is what he needs. The gun must be swung farther ahead now, and woe unto the man who stops that smooth swing as he presses the trigger. It is better to be too far ahead than one inch too far back. A single pellet forward of the wings may prove a clean kill, while a number of pellets too far back may result in a lost bird left to die miserably. 66 Tbe Partridge Family So heave ahead, my hearties, a good foot or more, according to distance, for round, humming wings are wondrous strong these braw, clear days. And forget not the calling. Allow them a bit more time than sufficed for the youngsters, and they will respond, as in salad days. Is the air deathly still and gray with the com- ing snow ? Then your work is cut out for you. They know, as do all wild things, when the white wolf of the North is running a trail to the south- ward. Though they be of that season's hatch, they instinctively feel the coming change, and they huddle close where the strange, cold, white feathers shall not touch them. Then the dog of the magic nose and the developed brain is the chap to find them. There will be practically no foot-scent. He must catch it in the air and draw straight and truly; so when you see his grand head rising higher and higher, and the sensitive nose apparently reaching and feeling for some- thing, clear for action, there will be music in a minute. After the snow has come the cover appears to open and dwindle like magic. One can see almost anywhere, and the problem is now sim- plified to a straight argument of skill versus speed. The birds now hang about thickets, brush heaps, and what rank weeds may be left standing, and they are apt to cling to the rail- The Quail 67 roads, where they are sure of gravel and apt to find grain which has fallen from passing cars. It may be well, too, if close attention be paid to fields where the corn has been left in shocks. Every bird in the neighborhood will know all about that corn. After a heavy fall of snow followed by high winds, there are sure to be big drifts about the fences. Sometimes flushed birds will make for a drift which covers some favorite spot, and will dart head foremost into the snow. This is a common trick with ptarmigan and ruffed grouse ; but the writer does not recall having seen it men- tioned in connection with quail. That they will so dive into snow is a fact, and a trick which frequently baffles the best of dogs. Therefore, when a bird has been truly marked down at a drift, and the dog fails to locate it, carefully scan the snow, and possibly a small, round hole may be there to explain the seeming mystery. The writer has found those holes, cleanly cut and without a single mark to betray the makers of them, and 'he has inserted a hand, and either caught or scared the seven senses out of a warm, feathery thing, which gave a sudden con- vulsive start, then burst through the snow roof like a miniature torpedo. During snow time it is possible to have sport without the aid of a dog. The writer has en- 68 The Partridge Family joyed it many a time, when, for some reason, a dog was not available. Indeed, he has gone so far as to purposely leave the dog at home. To the man who loves the woods there is a peculiar charm about this still hunting, for such it truly is. The warm moccasins make not a sound, while one bends to his reading of the great white page — the register of Nature's snug hostelry. The little people, furred and feathered, write firmly and plainly. They do not understand the joys of late hours, tobacco, and hard liquor, so the signature of each is beautifully distinct, and anything else that may be added is unquestion- ably true — evidently they are ignorant of a num- ber of popular professions, notably journalism. There, then, is the record for the still hunter to read. To find the trim footprints of a bevy, to read their age at a glance, and, when the sign warrants, to steal after them upon silent feet as the lynx steals upon the northern hare, is no bad fun. There is a tenseness about the situation, as one approaches a probable flush, which, • to say the least, is exhilarating. It is strange how the hands will grip the gun, and how the breath will check, should a dry leaf rustle, or a harm- less handful of snow fall with a muffled "prup." A glance of reddish brown where an unsuspected squirrel darts across an opening, will make the gun THE NATIONAL GAME-BIRD (Bob-white) The Quail 69 fairly leap to shoulder. And then — at last — most likely when you are a-straddle of a snowy log, or cautiously raising the rear foot — " Burr-r-r ! " Did you get one? Then indeed you are a good 'un ! What ! Two, did you say ? Then MASTER — see ! — I grovel at thy feet — snow and all ! Thy humble servant will meekly follow ten paces to the rear, for thou art indeed "that wizard of woodlands, foreknowing their deep- hidden secrets," of whom the poet sang. THE ENEMIES OF THE QUAIL Next to man, the deadliest foes of the quail are, — crusted snow, extreme cold, hawks, and domestic cats, which have taken to foraging in the covers. There are other destroyers, such as foxes and owls ; but careful observation has failed to prove very serious charges against them, the chief destroyers unquestionably being the four first mentioned. It is unfortunate that the rav- ages by crust and cold cannot well be prevented. The quail's habit of huddling under brush piles and other shelter leaves it peculiarly liable to be snowed under, which, with certain weather con- ditions, may mean the destruction of nine-tenths of the birds in a given district. The worst pos- sible thing for a quail country is an unusually heavy snow late in the winter, followed by a mix- ture of rain and sleet, suddenly changing to bitter 70 The Partridge Family cold. This is not infrequent, and the first sign of it is enough to give a sportsman a dose of the dismals. The birds know when the snow is coming and they creep under the brush, intend- ing to remain there until the weather has cleared. They know nothing about the peril, as they calmly submit to being covered by a foot or more of snow, which for the time only helps to make the quarters more comfortable. Then the rain comes and wets the surface all about, then the sleet stiffens it, and by its drumming warns the birds below not to stir for a while ; lastly, the wind suddenly shifts to the north, the cold becomes intense, and every foot of damp snow promptly hardens into solid ice, perhaps capable of sus- taining a man's weight. The quail are now im- prisoned beneath a dome of crystal, which may endure for days. If it does, the mournful sports- man scouting after the snow has gone overturns a heap and finds — that which makes him curse the elements thoroughly and bitterly, for right well he knows how long it may take to repair the damage. The quail which actually are frozen, victims of extreme cold alone, are comparatively few. So long as they can obtain a proper amount of food, they are very hardy. " A quail with a full crop never freezes," is an old saying with a deal of truth in it. The last severe spell of a winter is apt to be the most deadly, because then the birds are The Quail 71 sure to be in more or less poor condition. By that time the various growths have been closely gleaned, what little food there may be being frosted and deprived of most of its nourishing quality. If the winter prove unusually severe, with much deep snow, food should be placed where the birds can get it without having to go too far from their favorite shelter. Corn, wheat, and buckwheat are the best foods, and a few bushels of one or other of these, placed behind some form of shelter where, as the tracks indicate, the quail frequent, will do much to help birds through that trying period near the end of the winter. The trouble of attending to this will be richly repaid, for it must be remembered that a very few pairs of birds will stock a large farm to its full capacity. Two destroyers which have attained an unen- viable reputation are Cooper's hawk (Accipiter cooperi), and the sharp-shinned hawk (A. velox). These two are about the only hawks which do serious damage. The proper justice for them weighs about an ounce and one-eighth, and should be administered at every opportunity. When birds are regularly fed, one or other of these rascals is almost certain to find it out and hang about the nearest cover. For this reason it is a good plan to carry a gun and a few heavily loaded shells whenever one goes to put out more food or to learn how the quail are faring. 72 The Partridge Family When a cat takes to ranging the covers, it soon becomes a persistent destroyer, the habits of quail making them easy prey. An excellent course is to shoot every cat found beyond its proper range of the barnyard and the garden. It may be as well to carefully conceal the bodies, for many folk who own cats do not realize what bad brutes their pets may be ; and besides, as we all know, " What the eyes don't see, the heart don't sorrow for," as it is popularly expressed. Foxes, great horned owls, and other foes need not be dwelt upon, for farmers and sportsmen alike will shoot them at every opportunity. Protectors, however, should not fall into error where some of the birds of prey are concerned. The marsh-hawk, the long-winged fellow with the white patch on his rump, seen tacking over marshes, does more good than harm, as his fa- vorite prey is the destructive short-tailed field- mouse. The red-tailed hawk will pounce upon fowls, but seldom molests game. He earns a right to live by destroying certain mischief workers. The fine, red-shouldered hawk chiefly confines himself to a diet of mice, snakes, and grasshoppers. The beautiful little sparrow-hawk, seen poised in air, or perched upon a telegraph pole or a dead stub, feeds upon grasshoppers, crickets, and other insects during warm weather, while in winter his regular diet is mice. Need- The Quail 73 less to say, he should not be killed for any pur- pose. A DAY OVER DOGS You've seen an old cart-horse — one of the sort with spavins, and splints, and grease-heel, and poll- evil, and a few little things like that — released in pasture ? You've seen his ponderous joy as he grasped the fact that for a time at least he was free from galling straps ; you've seen him put his tail up and snort, then take a good, grunty old roll, and wind up with a stiff-jointed trot around and a few extra fool-capers on the side ? Well, I felt just that way. All one night I had whirled westward, sleeping like a winter bear, content with my single dream that I was flying farther and farther from the deep city canons of Gotham. Then a black hand pawed at me, and a voice said : " Git up, Boss, — you done got but ten minutes ! " He was right, as porters always are, and, as I hurried through dressing, an occasional peep through the window detected thickets and bits of woodland which were strangely familiar. There were the old grounds, now, so the letter had said, carrying a grand crop of quail, and here I was almost ready and almost arrived. A few minutes later, that best of fellows, whom I shall call " Doc," was leading the way to his snug resi- dence, and telling me all about it. The dogs 74 The Partridge Family were in fine fettle, everything was ready, and we would shoot the following day. Before turning in, Doc let his brace of setters into the house. They were handsome, medium- sized bitches of Llewellyn-Laverack blood, black- and-white, and named respectively Madge and Joss. I had shot over Madge a few days the pre- vious season, and we were curious to know if she would remember me. The brace crouched on a rug, and we sat and watched them. Presently Madge became restless and sniffed a few times in my direction ; then she crawled to me and rooted her nose under my hand, while her tail beat a soft tattoo of welcome. " By George ! she re- members you," exclaimed Doc ; and as I looked into her eager, pleading brown eyes, I knew that she did. Those eyes were talking as only a good dog's eyes can, but she had not yet heard me speak. Finally I patted her and said, " Good old Madgie." In an instant she was up and capering about like a mad thing, which performance so affected Joss that she cut a few capers out of sympathy. They made such a row that we had to send them away. Doc routed me out at six o'clock in some sort of fog which he termed morning, and presently we were in the trap, with the dogs snuggled under the seat. The nag was a stepper, the road was good, and we rattled along famously. Farms, Tbe Quail 75 forest, and thickets slipped behind in rapid succes- sion, each recalling some red-letter or disappoint- ing experience, for we had shot over that country for years. The district we traversed was perhaps not strictly picturesque ; yet seen in the early sun- light it seemed to me to be positively beautiful. Here stretched broad fields of bleaching corn or stubble, bordered with crimson sumach, and backed by smoky thicket ; next, a long pasture, deep green with late fall grass, and spangled with scattered points of color where the painted leaves had settled ; then a big woodland aflame with the crimson and gold of maples, the purple and bronze of oaks, and yellows of nut trees. Nine miles from the starting-point we reached a snug farm-house. A boy took the horse, and in brief time we had got into skeleton coats, put guns together, and were ready for business. The farmer, a good, ruddy-faced old soul, too old for more sport, had eyed me for some time in a doubtful sort of way. I had known him years before; but my name this time had failed to rouse his memory. Just for fun I whistled, " Ka-loi-hee ! ka-loi-hee ! " He at once turned and said : " That's pretty good. I knowed a chap though that could beat it. Years ago he used to hunt round here. He was a regular loafer — a long, lean, slab-sided cuss, always a-foolin' with birds, an' no good fur 7 6 The Partridge Family nothin' but shootin'. But he could call quail. I've seen him call 'em right to him." " What came of him ? " asked Doc. " I reckon he died about ten year ago. He was a consumptive, anyhow, and no good on earth," added the old man ; " but he could call quail bet- ter 'n any man livin'." " What was his name ? " persisted Doc. "Wa-al, I sorter forget his actool name, but you ought to know it. His dad was parson to the brick church in town, nigh on to fifty year, I reckon." Doc was choking with laughter when I turned on our friend and said : " See here, you old snoozer, what do you mean by calling me a consumptive loafer ? I'll take a fall out of you first thing you know!" He boggled his eyes and gasped like a freshly landed bass ; then he dived for me, and we had fun. " Durn you," he said, " what a whalin' big cuss you've growed. But I'm mighty glad to see you, loafer or no loafer," and the old cock laughed till his gills turned blue. Before we got away he begged us to see his neighbor. He said, " Why, we were talkin' 'bout you only last week, when we scart up some birds, and if you'll only fool old Tom like you fooled me, I'll kill a fat chicken agin supper time." The cat found a chicken's head in the yard that afternoon. The Quail 77 The first field, a big stubble, held no birds, but it proved the superb quality of the dogs. They went off at the word and beat it out like field- trial winners, working independently, quarter- ing beautifully, and maintaining an astonishing rate of speed. Once Madge whirled and stopped for a second on a lark ; but brief as her halt was, Joss had time to back her fifty yards away. Doc's face fairly shone as he grunted at me, "Great team — eh? " They were good beyond question, and the second field showed them to even better advantage. The game little ladies started fast and kept warming the pace, till they were racing before they had cut out half their ground. To and fro they swept in beautiful long tacks, sailing along with smooth, flawless action, which hinted of plenty of staying power. Heads carried high and sterns ceaselessly whipping flanks gave to their work that style and finish so pleasing to the eye of a sportsman. No order was given, for none was required. At intervals Doc whistled sharply to turn one or other ; with this exception they worked as their bird sense prompted. We followed as leisurely as their speed would allow} and we did not have to walk far. Madge's white nose rose higher and tested the breeze for a moment, then she went galloping dead to windward. No tacking, no ground-scent, no roading: just a rapid run up the. wind, and 7 8 The Partridge Family a stop so sudden that in one bound she was at speed, and at its finish she was rigid. " Oh, you little beauty ! " was my thought, as Doc tersely inquired, "How's that? " From the boundary fence came Joss, cracking on more sail every stride, for a fringe of weeds hid Madge from her, and she seemed to fear she had been outfooted. As she swung around the weeds, her eye caught the white banner of a tail marking her rival's position, and she propped so suddenly that she almost toppled over. Again Doc queried, " How's that ? " and again I said nothing, but feasted my eyes on the faultless pic- ture they made. We watched them for some minutes, and I would have given a fat price for the scene on canvas. The mass of glowing foliage in the background, the smoky distance, the deep crim- son of the sumachs against the grays of the lich- ened fence, the bronzy briers and partly faded small growths of the foreground, and the two black-and-white forms, set and straining with con- trolled excitement and intensity of purpose, might well have formed an illustration of the best there is in American sport. " Let's flush," said Doc, and we moved forward. Then it seemed as though a shell exploded in the weeds, and a storm of feathered missiles went whizzing toward the wood. The two guns The Quail 79 sounded as one ; then Doc's second barrel rang out, and a puff of feathers told that his hand was in. I always shoot with both eyes open, and the eye that had not been too intent on the birds had detected a swiftly leaping shape which darted into the grass. Swinging round, I held low and well ahead of the shaking grass. " What's that — rabbit ? " asked Doc. " What's that " answered for itself. We heard a wrathful sputtering, like a man's sweet, low talk when he unexpectedly finds something hard in a dark room, and then a voice — such a voice ! — cried unto heaven, " Mee — yow-r-r — ow-r / Mee-yow-r-r ! " We grinned at each other as I said, " Keep the dogs down till I finish that devil." It was a big, hard-looking Thomas, and the number nine had raked him well forward. He was growling and swearing savagely, and he made a bounce at me. Old foot-ball training helped there. The right boot met him fairly, and he sailed over a clump of bushes. " Wonderful what a trifle of ' number nine ' can do," sagely remarked Doc. " Shot or boot ? " I retorted. " Oh, the second barrel, by all means ; you're deadliest with it ! " snapped Doc, grinning like a fiend. The dogs soon found the dead birds and, after 8o The Partridge Family a reasonable wait, we followed the bevy into the cover. " I didn't see her," I remarked ; " couldn't make her out. Did you get her ? " " No, both cocks here. So you still stick to the old lady theory?" "Certainly I do; I'll get her next time, but I'd rather had her now." The ground was strewn with logs and small brush piles, and Madge and Joss promptly showed that they knew a thing or two. The dashing, high-headed work of the open changed to a fast but cautious skirmishing — a deadly method in such ground. After a period of uncertain progress, Doc asked, " Where's Joss ? " Then he whistled sharply, but no Joss appeared. We knew what was up, and at length descried a white point above a distant log. Madge bore off toward it, but before reach- ing the log she stiffened into a showy point be- side a lot of brush. A bird flushed, and Doc killed, Madge still holding the point. A kick at the brush flushed another, which fell to me. After Madge had located the dead, she caught sight of her mate, and promptly backed. Moving on to flush, we discovered Joss gamely proving her stanchness. She had stopped while in the act of drawing across a big log, and was standing almost on her head, her hind feet high The Quail 81 upon the log. In spite of the long wait, the flush and shooting so near at hand, she had not moved a hair. There was fun a-plenty. We ordered Joss on ; but the instant she had got into a more comforta- ble position, she set herself and refused to budge. I kicked a bit of brush, and right from under my feet went a bird. Doc stopped it, then he kicked the brush and a brace whizzed forth — one of them probably is whizzing yet. A kick at a branch sent a jaunty wee hen whirring to a medi- cated doom, then two white-throats boomed away together, and I made a clean double. " Confound you — you always get the best of it ! " exclaimed Doc. His voice started another, and I snapped it and did some soulful chuckling. But the joy was short-lived, for two puffs of smoke floated away, and Doc put in another shell. We had fired so nearly together that neither had heard the other's gun. The dogs moved about a bit, but soon stiffened again, evidently on more birds in the pile. Kick- ing failed to start them, so I climbed upon the pile and set it all swaying. Then, with a resound- ing whirr, the remainder of the bevy darted out Doc stopped a brace. This ended the excitement, so a halt was called for lunch and a pipe. The dogs curled up together and took their bread in turn. The tips of the 82 The Partridge Family white sterns were dyed pink from whipping rough brush, and dark welts along silken flanks told that it had not been all fun. We examined their feet and removed every burr from their coats. When the word was given, they sprang to their work as though they had not run a yard that day. We tramped across country for an hour before they again made game, but they never slackened speed, beating every field as prettily as the first. Where a wheat-stubble joined a sea of standing corn, Madge suddenly halted. Upon our turning to see Joss back from the open, we discovered that amiable lady rapidly reading along a furrow. In a moment she too halted, and there were two bevies, or one dog was on foot-scent. Doc's secret preference showed itself. He at once started for Joss, remarking, " They've run out of the corn to feed, come on ! " I looked at Madge. She was steady as a rock, and I hated to slight the creature that had carried a memory of me for a year. I walked to her, past her, turned and looked at her and said, " Madgie, old girl, you're wrong this time, I'm afraid." The stiffened stern waved slightly, the quivering ears dropped a trifle, then rose again, and the grand eyes rolled toward me with an ex- pression which said as plainly as words : " If I'm wrong, I don't know it ; I'm doing my best to please you." I turned aside, made one step — The Quail 83 two steps ; then something grazed a leggin, and she stiffened beside my foot. I reached down and patted her. To the hand she felt hard as a board, and the tense muscles twitched curiously. Once more I moved ahead, turned, and said, " Madgie, where are — " " Burr— r-r-r-urr ! " Not a bevy, but a pack of about forty birds roared up ten yards away and started for the standing corn. I rattled in both barrels, and three birds fell. Like an echo came two shots from Doc, followed by a warning cry. I hurried a shell into the right barrel and turned in time for a chance at a second bevy as it reached the corn. A bird fell, and I saw Doc gather a brace. There were two hours of daylight left, and there were sixty or more quail in the corn. A Joshua would have been worth ten dollars an hour, in advance. The stalks towered above our heads, and the ground was a bit too clean for birds to lie very close ; but the sport lost no spice on that account. Up and down the rows we tramped abreast, getting shots every few minutes and missing now and then. Often we could not see the birds when they rose, but many a beautiful bit of dog work and brilliant kill rewarded us. The birds were scattered all over the place, and only the approach of dusk prevented the making of a tre- 84 The Partridge Family mendous bag. Shadows stole from the woods and blurred the rows of corn till buzzing wings might sound with impunity anywhere. Doc shouted, " Want to go through once more ? " I yelled back, " Too dark ! " How we suddenly discovered that we were very weary ; how we tramped two miles too far trying to locate our farmer and his chicken ; how Madge jogged contentedly at heel while Joss persisted in ranging through the darkness; how we finally gathered in the chicken ; how we almost fell asleep during the long ride home, need not be dwelt upon. Doc's better half was patiently waiting. She scanned the tired faces and bulging coats, and knew things had gone well that day. Before letting the dogs go to feed, she dropped on her knees between them, and with an arm about the neck of each, she plumped out the awful question, "Which do you think is the best?" I was in a mighty tight place, and I knew it. Fate, how- ever, was kind, for I happened to notice the arm about Madge tightening in a way that was, to say the least, suggestive. To be candid, my chief im- pression was that those dogs were exceptionally fortunate brutes ; but that was not the question. Risking a random shot, I ventured, " Well, if Doc will put Madge in the coming field trials, I'll remain to see that running." The Quail 85 It was a clean kill. With proud triumph she informed her lord and master that I was the best judge of dogs that had ever lived. Doc's eyes twinkled mischievously as he drawled : " Won't you ever learn to weigh his words? Joss can hang her — and he knows it." Doc was right. THE FLORIDA BOB-WHITE (C. v.floridanus) This bird almost might be termed the bantam of the common Bob-white. Scientific authori- ties have agreed to consider it a separate race ; but to the eye of the average sportsman it is merely an undersized individual of the northern species. The important differences are the smaller size and the darker color throughout. The race is confined to Florida, and may be found upon all suitable ground within the bor- ders of the state. Its habits differ but slightly, if at all, from those of C. virginianus. Its favor- ite haunts are cultivated grounds bordered by the natural cover. The mating season extends, ac- cording to locality, from about the end of Feb- ruary to April. The nest is carefully concealed, perhaps under a palmetto, or in rank grass, or weeds. The eggs closely resemble those of the northern bird, but the average number is consid- erably less, it being usually between ten and 86 Tbe Partridge Family fifteen. As a rule two broods are raised in a season. The principal food embraces a variety of seeds and berries. The various calls, the flight, habits of feeding and roosting time, are identical with those of C. virginianus, and the Florida bird behaves as well before dogs and affords as good sport as the other. As many Northerners have learned, Florida Bob-white shooting is not what it used to be. The game, small fellows have many busy foes, including snakes and beasts and birds of prey. These attack old and young, and the eggs ; but the worst enemy is the prowling pot-hunter, black and white, who is apt to also be a trapper. This kind of man knows no mercy, and as the birds fall easy victims to the simplest form of snare and traps, great numbers are annually destroyed by such illegal methods. In addition to these ravages, there is a vast amount of shooting done by sportsmen from the North, who, being on holi- day, naturally keep their guns as busy as possi- ble. Better enforced game laws, and a persistent pursuit of all law breakers and the natural enemies of Bob-white, no doubt will in time restore the proper head of birds. More than once, to the writer's personal knowledge, have these southern birds been brought north, to restock depleted covers. Under the new climatic and food condi- tions the type is speedily lost, and it is to be pre- The Quail 87 sumed the strangers mate freely with native birds. This I have not seen proved by the only true test, i.e. breeding in confinement; but in at least two instances males from Florida, which were turned loose with northern bred females, appeared to mate and breed within a field or so of the point of liberation. Unfortunately, only the eye could be used for verification, which is none too trust- worthy a method ; but as there is no great reason for doubt, the eye probably was correct. THE TEXAN BOB-WHITE (C. v. texanus) Only a trifle smaller than C. virginianus, this race is distinguished by its lighter color, and, in the majority of males, by a tinge of cinnamon beneath the black of the throat. To the eye, the entire plumage presents a somewhat bleached appearance, which in both sexes amounts to a decided grayness. The female has a fainter cin- namon mark, while the buff of throat and stripe has a faded look, quite unlike the warmer tone of her northern sister. The other trifling varia- tions could hardly be detected by unscientific eyes except by a careful comparison of specimens of the two races side by side. The general habits and calls of this rac£ are the same as those of C. virginianus ; but, possibly owing to a lack of " education," the bird is tamer, and only in much 88 The Partridge Family disturbed districts does it ever show any of the resourcefulness frequently so puzzling to the pur- suer of the Bob-white of the North. Its range extends over western and southern Texas, and in Mexico from Guadalajara to Tamaulipas and Nuevo Leon. It is a common bird of the prairies and the Rio Grande valley, but it is seldom if ever found at a greater elevation than two thousand feet. Its food consists of grain, the seeds of grasses and wild growths, berries, and insects. When flushed, it speeds away to the thickest available cover, where it lies very close. The nest in the majority of cases is built in a clump of close growing grass, and, as frequently is the case in the North, it is apt to be domed over by interwoven herbage. The number of eggs laid by one bird varies be- tween twelve and fifteen ; when a greater num- ber are found, it is more than probable that two. hens have deposited them. In all sporting qualifications this bird is worthy of pursuit, espe- cially in a region where there has been a fair amount of shooting. In addition to the usual enemies, human, furred, and feathered, the Texan Bob-white has a deadly foe in the rattlesnake, which is common through- out its haunts. The terrestrial habit of the game leaves it peculiarly open to attack by the coiled peril, and it is no uncommon thing to find a snake The Quail 89 showing from one to three or four conspicuous swellings, which upon cutting the destroyer open prove to be caused by dead quail. THE MASKED BOB-WHITE (C. ridgwayi) Adult Male — Head, black mixed with chestnut on top ; occiput, nearly all chestnut ; hind neck, chestnut with a few white spots. Upper part of back, chestnut slightly mottled with black, rest of upper parts and wings closely barred with black and buff; central tail feathers like the back, remainder bluish gray, with slight buff mottlings near the tips. White line over the eye ; sides of face and throat, jet black ; rest of under parts, uniform cinnamon rufous ; bill, black, legs and feet, pale brown. Total length, 8| inches ; wing, 4^ ; tail, 2|; tarsus, i|; bill, \. Geographical distribution — southern Arizona to Sonora, Mexico. The female closely resembles the female of the Texan quail, but is paler, especially on the upper parts, including the wings. The under parts show trifling differences. The cinnamon band is somewhat narrower and paler; the buff of the throat is paler ; but the bars on upper breast and abdomen are darker and more sharply defined. There is no noticeable difference in the dimen- sions of the male and female. The conspicuous black mask gives to this bird a most singu- lar appearance, yet it is exceedingly handsome. When seen in full sunlight the breast of the male glows with a rich red which increases the apparant plumpness of a very rounded model. 90 The Partridge Family It is not so abundant as its relatives. In Arizona, it appears to be confined to a strip of territory about thirty miles wide and a hundred miles in length. It is found in the valley, on the table- lands, and at a considerable elevation, the highest recorded being six thousand feet in the Huachuca Mountains. The call of the male is the familiar " Bob-white," but the rallying call after a bevy has been scattered shows a marked variation, it sounding like Hoo-we. The nest and eggs closely resemble those of the northern species. The food consists of insects, seeds in variety, and the foliage of certain growths. To judge from its fondness for elevations, this bird should be hardy and worthy of introduction in portions of our western wilderness where the climatic conditions are not too severe. Were the species once well established at such points, birds bred in the new country might safely be taken farther north, and the process repeated until perhaps at last we should have a beautiful, and what should prove a valuable, addition to the game list of the Northern states. Some of those zealous sportsmen who have spent and frequently wasted money in attempts to introduce European game might per- haps, with happier results, turn their attention to the masked Bob-white. Tbe Partridges 91 THE PARTRIDGES Subfamily — Odontophorina. Genus, Oreortyx (literally mountain quail). Head with long, slender crest of two feathers, upright, or inclined backward. Mountain dwellers. Plumage very beautiful with sharply contrasting markings. The genus em- braces one species and two subspecies, viz. : O. pictus, the mountain partridge ; O, p. phimiferus^ the plumed partridge ; and O. p. confinis, the San Pedro partridge. Genus Callipepla, crest full and short. C. squamata, the scaled partridge, and C. s. castaneigastra, the chestnut-bellied scaled partridge. Genus Lophortyx* crest of several overlapping feathers, recurved, upright, widening from base to tip, distinct from crown feathers. Z. californicus, the California partridge ; L. c. vallicola, the valley partridge ; and L. gambelli, Gambel's partridge. Genus Cyrtonyx, crest full, soft, depressed. Species, C. montezuma, the Massena partridge. THE MOUNTAIN PARTRIDGE ( Oreortyx pictus} Adult male — Top of head, sides of neck and breast, plumbeous; entire upper parts, upper tail-coverts and wings, deep olive- brown, sometimes tinged with rufous ; crest of lengthened straight feathers, black ; chin, white ; entire throat, rich chest- nut, bordered on the sides with black, and separated from the bluish neck by a conspicuous white line ; a white spot behind the eye ; flanks, deep chestnut, broadly barred with black and white ; middle of belly, white ; under tail-coverts, black, the feathers showing a central line of deep chestnut ; tail, olive- brown, mottled with black ; inner edges of tertials broadly marked with ochraceous white ; bill, black. Total length about 10 inches, wing, 5!; tail, 3^; tarsus, if; bill, f . The adult female closely resembles the male, the only noticeable differ- ence being a somewhat shorter crest. Range, from the Bay of San Francisco, California, through Oregon and Washington. Introduced on Vancouver Island. 92 Tbe Partridge Family This comparatively large and exceedingly hand- some species is not highly esteemed by sportsmen in general, owing to its true value not being well understood. In certain portions of California, and notably in the Willamette Valley, Oregon, when abundant it affords capital sport, while upon the table it is a delicacy not to be forgotten. As a rule, one, or at most two, broods are found on a favorite ground, the birds seldom, if ever, flocking like some of their relatives. O. pictus prefers moist districts and a generous rainfall. It is a runner, and in comparison with Bob-white, by no means so satisfactory a bird for dogs to work on. After the first flush the covey is apt to scatter widely and the beating up of single birds is a slow and frequently a wearying task. On the wing, its size and moderate speed render it a rather easy mark. The call of the male is suggestive of the crow- ing of a young bantam, while the rallying cry of scattered birds is not unlike the yelping of young wild turkeys. The female is a watchful mother, leading and calling her brood like a bantam hen, and the young are shy, alert things, hiding promptly and as closely as young Bob-whites when the alarm note is sounded. The nest is a grass-lined depression in the ground, well hidden under some convenient shelter, frequently a log or bush or a clump of grass. The eggs vary in Tbe Partridges 93 color from pale to rich buff, without spots. The food of this species consists of various seeds and insects, occasionally varied with grain. The bird, however, is too shy and retiring in habit to ever make itself at home on cultivated ground. THE PLUMED PARTRIDGE (Oreortyx pictus plumiferus) To the ordinary observer this bird is exactly like O. pictus, but the habits vary. Strangely enough, the mountain partridge is less a fre- quenter of high altitudes than this species, which is frequently found at an elevation of between eight and ten thousand feet. Its range includes both sides of the Sierra Nevada, eastern Oregon, and to the Panamint Mountains and Mount Ma- gruder, Nevada ; in California, from San Francisco Bay to the Argus Mountains. It prefers the drier country away from the coast. It, too, is a runner, and an unsatisfactory object of pursuit. The nest, eggs, young, habits during the breeding season, and food are identical with those of the preceding species ; in fact, the one marked difference lies in the preference of O. p. plumiferus for higher ground. To the eye, the female is distinguishable by her shorter crest. 94 The Partridge Family THE SAN PEDRO PARTRIDGE (0. p. confinis) This bird was found by Mr. Anthony in the San Pedro Mountains of Lower California, to which range it is confined, and abundant at six to ten thousand feet above sea level ; during winter it descends to lower ground. Only trifling varia- tions in color distinguish it from O.p.plumiferus. The eggs are pure creamy white. THE SCALED PARTRIDGE (Callipepla squamata) Adult — Head, varying from brown to brownish gray; tip of crest, white; throat, pale buff; hind neck, upper parts of back and breast, bluish gray, each feather beautifully bordered with black, the marks following a scalelike arrangement ; scapulars, wings, lower back, and rump, pale brown ; upper tail-coverts and tail, bluish gray; flanks, bluish gray, streaked with white; rest of lower parts, pale buff, feathers margined with deep brown ; bill, black. Total length, 9^ inches; wing, 5; tail, 4^; tarsus, if. In plumage the sexes are exactly alike. Range, western Texas New Mexico, southern Arizona, Valley of Mexico. This beautiful bird, also known as " blue quail," " white topknot," " white-crested quail," and " cac- tus-quail," is a frequenter of the mesas and a lover of dry plateaus, where vegetation is sparse and water not to be found. Here, amid sun-baked cactus, yuccas, and thinly dispersed thorny growths, it finds congenial haunts. Needless to say, such Tbe Partridges 95 ground is no place for good dogs, and even if the canines could work, the habits of the scaled par- tridge would not recommend it to sportsmen. It is an inveterate runner, a shy, wary creature, ever ready to go sprinting away from the first sugges- tion of danger, and only taking wing when sur- prised or closely pressed. When flushed, its sole idea appears to be to get to earth again as speedily as may be and to resume its tireless trotting. It is found at an altitude of six to seven thousand feet, and descends to the lowlands during severe weather, but never appears to seek cover. Its food consists of seeds, berries, buds, leaves, and insects, though grain is greedily devoured if op- portunity offers. Its alarm note is a peculiar, low, hollow-sounding, and apparently somewhat ventriloquial effort. The pairs begin nesting in May, and two, and sometimes three, broods are hatched during a season. The nest is placed upon the ground under any convenient shelter ; the eggs are light buff, freckled with brownish spots, and the aver- age number about a dozen. Were it not for its habit of running, this bird might have proved a valuable addition to the game list of the country, instead of being an abomination to the sportsman, and a menace to the subsequent usefulness of any dog unfortunate enough to be sent after it. 96 The Partridge Family THE CHESTNUT-BELLIED SCALED PARTRIDGE (C. s. castaneigastra) This is a subspecies of the preceding, distin- guished by a more or less extensive patch of chestnut on the belly. With this exception, its habits, color, and markings so closely resemble the other that further references are unnecessary. It is found in the lower Rio Grande Valley, in Texas, and in eastern Mexico. From the sport- ing point of view, it has little to recommend it. THE CALIFORNIA PARTRIDGE (Lophortyx californicus) Adult male — Forehead, buff; shafts of feathers, black; head, dark chestnut, bordered anteriorly and on sides with black, followed by a line of pure white ; line from bill to eye, white ; chin and throat, jet-black, bordered all round from behind the eye with white, margined with black ; back of neck and upper part of back, blue, the feathers margined with black and a minute blu- ish white spot at tip ; entire upper parts, deep smoke-brown ; inner edge of tertials, buff, forming two conspicuous lines ; pri- maries, dark brown; breast, deep blue; belly, deep buff, the feathers margined with black; flanks, smoke-brown, streaked with white; abdomen, dark chestnut, the feathers with black margins; vent and under tail-coverts deep buff, with broad central streaks of dark brown; bill, black; crest, black, very narrow at base, widening out and curving forward at the tip ; all the feathers (about six) enclosed between the webs of the ante- rior plume. Total length of bird, 10 inches; wing, 4$; tail, 4; tarsus, i^ ; bill, \. The female has a shorter, chestnut-brown crest ; head, smoky gray, without white or black markings ; no chestnut patch on abdomen, and the scaly markings less pro- nounced. Colors throughout more subdued. Range, Cali- fornia coast region, as far north as Monterey. Introduced into Oregon, Washington, and British Columbia. The Partridges 97 This handsome and sprightly species, while a persistent runner, has been compelled to furnish much excellent sport. It is a haunter of canons, brushy slopes, and fields, and its pursuit may be best described as continued and rapid skirmishing by the sportsman afoot. Dogs are practically use- less for work on this aggravating bird. I have never seen it lie to a point — that is, after the manner of Bob-white. In certain cover, scat- tered birds occasionally do so, but a safe rule for the man who owns a good dog is to leave that dog at home when the quarry is the California partridge. In spite of many glowing descriptions of the delights of skirmishing behind these nimble-footed small rascals, I am firmly convinced that they are greatly overdrawn, as I am that on foot, on the wing, and on the board, L. californicus is un- worthy of mention in comparison with Bob-white. I am ready to admit that the bustling of these birds from clump to clump is jolly good fun ; that the chase, for that is what it amounts to, has a charm peculiar to itself ; that the shooting of the bird is fairly difficult, under the conditions, — but beyond that I will not go. To rank this partridge, as some have, with Bob-white, is an absurdity — indeed, any comparison is an absurdity because of the totally different conditions. Sometimes, however, L. californicus will behave as though he 98 The Partridge Family had closely studied a page of Bob-white's primer. A personal memory of the covers of Vancouver Island is all the more pleasant because of one day during which the crested sprinters did not all get away at the crack of the gun. A wise old dog that had been brought north from California ren- dered yeoman service by pointing bird after bird, and for perhaps an hour two guns were busy at a very fair imitation of genuine sport. This par- ticular lot of birds certainly lay close, and when flushed showed considerable speed, but taken on their merits, judged by our experience, they fell below the high standard of the eastern bird. Other lots, found near by, ran persistently, and by their behavior caused what may be termed much strenuous speech. Where the birds are plentiful, at the conclu- sion of the breeding season the broods of a dis- trict band together, thus forming great packs, of which one may contain three or four hundred individuals. This grouselike habit of packing is common to most of the partridges, and, in spite of noted authorities to the contrary, I am con- vinced that the Bob-white (Colinus virginianus) also occasionally packs during the period of par- tial migration. I do not mean that hundreds join forces, but that from forty to sixty are now and then found together, all matured birds, at the opening of the season during the restless period. The Partridges 99 The theory of two unusually large broods of that year does not apply, as in that case the plumage of the second lot would at once betray them. In my opinion, three, and perhaps four, bevies some- times drift together by accident of the partial migration and fare forward, for the time being at least, in packlike formation. Whether or no such birds would permanently maintain their re- lationship I am unable to say, as (unfortunately for the cause of science !) whenever it has been rny good fortune to stumble upon such an assem- blage, I have behaved in a fashion not at all cal- culated to preserve pack formation, or even the lives of individual members. To return to L. calif ornicus. The great packs remain together until the approach of the mating season, which as a rule is some time in March ; then they break up, and the important business of pairing and nesting begins. The birds make little effort at concealing the nest, which is usu- ally upon the ground beside a stump, or under a bush, but rarely in a tree near the ground. The eggs number about fifteen and are pale buff, dotted or blotched with a darker tint. The period of incubation is about three weeks, and chicks run as soon as hatched. The male does not share the task of hatching, but both parents tend the young and warn them of approaching danger. The chicks are very clever at hiding ioo Tbe Partridge Family even in scanty cover, resembling in their ways the young of C. virginianus. Their food is chiefly insects until they are well grown, when seeds, berries, and various green growths are added. Owing to the ravages of gunners and trappers, the birds are now comparatively scarce in many of their old-time strongholds. THE VALLEY PARTRIDGE (Z,. c. vallicola) Only a very close observer could detect the slight difference in plumage — the general paler tone — which distinguishes this from the preced- ing species. In habits, food, coloring, and mark- ing of eggs, the variation, if any exist, is too slight to require comment, while in speed of foot and lack of those qualities which endear a bird to sportsmen the two are worthy rivals. The California partridge is a bird of the coast, while this one is found in the interior of California, Nevada, Oregon, and Utah, introduced in the last named. It is hardy, and in spite of its name is found on the mountains of Lower California at an elevation of between eight and nine thousand feet. Here, during the occasional very dry seasons, it does not breed, the packs remaining unbroken until more favorable conditions occur. This curious fact, of course, means the non-production of young for a season, which, in the opinion of A DESERT RUNNER (Gambel's Partridge) The Partridge ? • ioi: those who judge a bird by its sporting qualities, is no great loss. GAMBEL'S PARTRIDGE (L. gambeli) Adult male — Top of head and nape, bright chestnut; forehead, black, grayish above the bill, and crossed by a narrow white line between the eyes ; a white stripe from behind eye to back of ear-coverts, bordered with black ; chin, throat, and side of face, black, bordered all around with white ; back and sides of neck, lead color, each feather narrowly bordered with brownish black ; entire upper parts, grayish blue, darkest on upper tail- coverts, where the feathers are faintly margined with white; tail, pale blue ; wings, like the back, but with a brownish tinge ; the inner webs of the tertials broadly margined with white, and the outer webs of those nearest the primaries narrowly mar- gined with yellowish white, forming a horizontal bar when the wing is closed ; primaries, brown, grayish on the outer webs ; upper part of breast, pale blue ; lower part to abdomen, bright buff; flanks, dark chestnut, with a conspicuous white stripe along the shaft ; abdomen, black, flanked by bright buff feathers, with a white stripe in the centre, bordered with chestnut ; vent and under tail-coverts, pale buff with grayish brown central stripe tinged with chestnut ; an upright plume composed of five or six black feathers, curving forward, and the webs turned backward, each overlapping the one behind, rises from the fore- head, sometimes bending over the bill ; bill, black ; feet and legs, horn color. Total length, 10 inches; wing, 4f; tail, 4^ ; bill, i; legs, \\. Adult female — Upper parts, olive-green ; top of head, olive-brown ; throat, dark buff, streaked with bluish gray ; upper part of breast, grayish blue ; rest of under parts pale buff, the feathers narrowly margined with blackish chestnut; flanks, chestnut, with central white stripe; under tail-coverts, bronzy brown, margined with pale buff; wings as in the male, the tertials less conspicuously margined with white ; tail, purplish blue (Elliot). The crest is short, straight, and brownish black. Range, 1 6*2 : Tbe Partridge Family western Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona to San Bernardino County, California, southern Utah, Nevada, and northwestern Mexico. Beautiful, hardy, prolific, were it not for its detestable habit of running, this foppishly garbed varlet would occupy a high place among our upland game. But alas ! like its near relatives, this bird appears to be mainly occupied either in running away from something, or in looking for something to run from. It has an annoying habit of sticking to the thorniest and most im- pregnable cover available, the most rugged of rocks and the steepest of slopes, and through it all it runs — and keeps on running. It can fly swiftly enough when in the humor, but the humor seldom seizes it. Only a Christian of the sternest stripe is fit to be trusted on the trail of this nimble-footed little rascal. In its pursuit, a system of rushing tactics is bound to be the most profitable, and this can be successfully followed only by a man who is strong, wiry, in good con- dition, and thoroughly informed concerning the habits of the game. Such a man very frequently can make a fine bag, and, needless to say, he will earn it. Those who have grown wise in the pursuit of this bird, who have larded the lean earth while rushing the open, charging the cover, and storming the heights, know that if they can get to close quarters with the pattering blue The Partridges 103 army, sport worthy the name may follow. Scat- tered birds sometimes lie sufficiently close to allow of their being beaten up singly, or a brace or so at a time. When this happens, the man who has been sweating over an abomination of hard going, may come in for a bit of very pretty shooting. When flushed the birds move smartly, keeping low, and usually curving away to one side, when they offer a fair, small, and fast mark. In addition to running, Gambel's partridge will not hesitate to tree in any convenient growth. It also has an exasperating habit of running to the edge of a canon, flying down into it, and climbing up the farther side, which means the hardest of hard work for whoever would follow. While apparently fond of the bottoms and lower sides of canons, it may be found almost any- where up to a height of eight thousand feet or more, and never very far from water. The birds pair during April. The nest shows little skill, being a slight hollow roughly lined with a few leaves or blades of grass, but it usu- ally is well concealed. The eggs number from twelve to fifteen, and are marked with various shades of brown upon a pale buff ground, the whole overcast with a purplish tinge. Instances of the nest being placed in a tree or cactus some feet above the ground are on record. The period of incubation is about twenty-eight days. The 104 Tbe Partridge Family young run as soon as hatched, and in their habits of hiding and taking advantage of the slightest cover resemble the young of the Bob-white. Frequently two broods are raised in a season. The love call cannot well be represented in type ; the alarm note is a grating sound, while the signal to decamp is an unmistakable quit. THE MASSENA PARTRIDGE (Cry tony x montezumd) Adult male — Forehead, black, with white stripe passing upward from nostril ; top of head, pale brown, barred with black ;' occi- put, plain brown, feathers forming a short, thick crest ; rest of head, white, with a plumbeous stripe from angle of mouth, ex- tending in a curved line beneath the ear, meeting a broader line that crosses it at right angles, and extends from above the ear to the lower margin of the black throat; a small triangular curved black patch beneath the eye ; the brown of the head is separated from the white by a narrow black line ; the white, on side and fore neck, is margined beneath by a rather broad black band ; upper parts, reddish brown, barred with black, and streaked with buff; secondaries, pale purplish gray, spotted with black; primaries, dark brown, the outer webs spotted with white; sides of breast and flanks, dark plumbeous, almost black, spotted with white ; line through middle of breast and the belly, dark chestnut ; rest of under parts and thighs, velvety black ; maxilla, black ; mandible, black, with yellowish spot on the side. Total length, 8| inches ; wing, 5 ; tail, 2|; tarsus, ij; bill, along culmen, f . Adult female — General color, light pinkish cinnamon, upper parts barred with black. Head, without black or white stripes, barred on top and crest with black ; throat, pinky white ; a few black spots on flanks and lower parts of chest ; abdomen and anal region, buff; secondaries, brownish black, barred with pale cinnamon ; primaries, dark brown, spotted with white on outer The Partridges 105 webs ; maxilla, black ; mandible, pale horn color. Measure- ments, same as male. The downy young are prettily marked above with light and dark brown, spotted with a darker shade. Throat, pale brown, shading into dull white below. Range, western Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona, table-lands of Mexico. A harlequin in markings and a fool in actions might truthfully be said of this peculiar bird. Of its two common names — " black-bellied " and " fool quail " — the one aptly refers to an oddity of its coloration, while the other has been earned by its apparent lack of that cleverness which goes far toward making the fame of some of its rela- tives. To me, its rounded back, movements, and the spotted sides are comically suggestive of a small guinea fowl. It prefers high ground, and in the mountain ranges as high as nine thousand feet. In disposition and habits it differs broadly from all members of the group, being seemingly too confiding to suspect danger. It shows no ten- dency to run, it does not pack, in fact in seldom- visited regions each family keeps to itself and fol- lows the even tenor of a placid life without concern for the ways of the human destroyer. When closely approached, it may move sufficiently to escape being trodden upon, but fear seems foreign to its gentle nature. As often as not it will stand motionless while regarding the intruder with an air of mild wonder. Or, possibly in obedience to some instinctive trust in coloration, it will de- 106 The Partridge Family liberately squat in plain view and remain motion- less until struck with a whip or stick. Not a very promising subject for sport, would naturally be one's first thought, yet there is more in these queer small birds than is at first apparent. Once flushed, they speed away at a great rate, offering fair, but not too easy, marks. They will then scatter and lie as close as the northern birds. To beat them up one at a time is no poor imitation of Bob-white shooting, and the use of a good sixteen or twenty gauge would add zest to the sport. It is to be hoped, as it probably will prove, that a better acquaintance with the ways of the shooting man will sharpen this bird's wits until it learns to take better care of itself. As it is, its sole fault from the sporting stand- point is an excess of faith in the generous ten- dency of mankind. The nest is a grass-lined hollow of the ground, and usually contains about ten brilliantly white eggs. It is commonly found in a clump of grass, or under a shrub, and as a rule well concealed. THE GROUSE FAMILY Sub-family Tetraonincs, which includes all grouse. The American species are: the ruffed grouse, the dusky grouse, the spruce- grouse, the pinnated grouse, or prairie-chicken, the sharp- tailed grouse, the cock-of-the-plains, and the ptarmigan. Genus Bonasa — Head crested, rudimentary air-sac covered by a tuft of broad, soft, glossy feathers ; tail broad, long, rounded, fan- shaped ; legs bare from heel. The ruffed grouse, B. umbellus ; Sabine's grouse, B. u. sabini ; the Canadian ruffed grouse, B. u. togata, and the gray ruffed grouse, B. u. umbelloides. Genus Dendragapus — Head slightly crested; tail long, square at tip; air-sacs on neck. The dusky grouse, D. obscurus ; the sooty grouse, D. o. fuliginosus ; Richardson's grouse, D. o. richardsoni. Genus Canachites — Head without crest ; tail moderately long, nearly square at tip; no air-sacs on neck. The Canada grouse, C. canadensiS) and the Franklin's grouse, C. franklini. Genus Tympanuchus — Head crested ; winglike tufts above air-sacs on neck ; tail short, rounded. The pinnated grouse, T. amer- icanusj heath-hen, T. cupido ; lesser prairie-hen, T, pallidi- cinctus ; and Attwater's prairie-hen, T. a. attwateri. Genus Pedioecetes — Head slightly crested; no winglike tufts above air-sacs ; tail pointed. The sharp-tailed grouse, P.phasianellus ; the Columbian sharp-tailed grouse, P. p. columbianus, and the prairie sharp-tailed grouse, P. p. campestris. Genus Centrocercus — No crest ; air-sacs very large ; tail very long, of narrow, stiff feathers ; male much larger than female. The cock-of-the-plains (sage-cock), C. urophasianus. Genus Lagopus — No crest ; tarsi and toes densely feathered ; tail medium length, slightly rounded; plumage turning white in winter. The willow-ptarmigan, L. lagopus ; Allen's ptarmigan, L. I. alleni; rock-ptarmigan, L. rupestris; Reinhardt's ptarmi- gan, L. r. reinhardti; Welch's ptarmigan, L. r. welchi; Nel- 107 io8 The Grouse Family son's ptarmigan, L. r. nelsoni ; Turner's ptarmigan, L. r. atkensis ; TownsencTs ptarmigan, L. r. townsendi; Evermann's ptarmigan, L. evermanni', and the white-tailed ptarmigan, Z,. leucurus. THE RUFFED GROUSE (Bonasa umbellus) Adult male — Upper parts varied with yellowish brown and gray, barred on head, neck, and upper part of back and wings, with black and rufous ; lower part of back and rump, gray, inter- spersed with dark red, and ovate spots of pale buff, surrounded with black ; scapulars and wing-coverts conspicuously streaked with buffy white ; primaries, grayish brown, outer webs barred with creamy white ; upper tail-coverts, gray, mottled and barred with black; on sides of neck, tufts of broad, lengthened feathers, black, tipped with light brown and shot with metallic lustre; throat, buff, faintly barred with brown ; lower parts, buff on chest, shading to white below, barred with brown ; under tail- coverts, buff, barred with dark brown and with a V-shaped white mark at tip; tail, gray, or yellowish brown; sometimes rusty, mottled with black and crossed by irregular buff bands, bordered above by black, and a broad, subterminal black band bordered above and below with gray, mottled with black, the upper gray bar bordered above with a narrow black bar ; legs, feathered to middle of tarsus ; maxilla, black ; mandible, horn color. Total length, about 16 inches ; wing, 7^ ; tail, 6\. The female closely resembles the male, but is a trifle smaller and has the neck-tufts smaller — frequently is without them. The downy young have the upper parts chestnut, a black line from back of eye, across ear-coverts ; under parts, light buff. Range — eastern United States and southern Canada, from Massachu- setts to northern Georgia, Mississippi, and Arkansas, westward to the Dakotas. While a stanch supporter of Bob-white's claim to the premier position among upland game, the writer pleads guilty to a genuine love for the The Ruffed Grouse 109 ruffed grouse. Not that the bird has ever held out any marked inducement, or in any way what- ever encouraged a closer relationship, but rather because of the number and infinite variety of the difficulties which have marked the progress, or lack of progress, of the suit. There is an old say- ing that " Blessings brighten when they take their flight." If this holds good of ruffed grouse, the writer gravely suspects that some of his lost grouse probably by now are too incandescent for the naked eye. Usually a haunter of the most difficult country and the densest cover, this bird can be success- fully pursued only by the man who can combine with rapid, accurate shooting a quick perception and ready resource. The grouse is wily, especially in much disturbed covers, and the conditions may vary with every shot. The man who can average half his birds, taking them as they flush, is entitled to high rank even among the best of company. The writer has shot ruffed grouse in most of the good sections of that tremendous expanse of country which extends from ocean to ocean, from the latitude of northern Pennsylvania to north of Winnipeg, Manitoba. Within this huge belt is to be found the cream of the shoot- ing, and nowhere are there easy birds — that is, after they once take wing in earnest. There, of course, are uneducated grouse in remote corners. no The Grouse Family Some of these birds may betray a confiding trust which may astonish a tenderfoot, but once they realize their mistake and turn on the full voltage, they go like all possessed. The habits of the grouse vary somewhat in different localities, but as a general rule it is to be found in what is termed heavy cover, usually another name for the worst there is in that partic- ular section. A snarl of thickets, swamps, dense second growth, brier patches, heavy woods, beech ridges, dark ravines, forested hill and mountain sides, the brushy banks of streams — each and all find favor with the strong, swift fliers, and right well do they know how to make the most of every protective feature of their chosen ground. The love-making of the grouse is precisely what might be expected of so game and vigorous a fellow. He chooses some spot which suits his fancy, and from it sends notice to all males and females within hearing that he is open to engage- ment— either way, love or war, or both. He usually gets both. The challenge is not a vocal effort, but the well-known drumming, a most peculiar sound. Perhaps nothing connected with the ways of game birds has caused more discussion in and out of print, or more bitter controversies, than this same drumming. One of the chief causes of the misunderstanding was the ignorance of the men The Ruffed Grouse in most interested — the sportsmen. Not so long ago these men, as a class, knew comparatively little about the habits of their favorite game dur- ing the close season. They hunted and shot, and while so doing naturally familiarized themselves with the ways of the quarry during the open season. That knowledge was necessary, for it enabled them to get the game ; but further than that few of them cared to go. The sportsmen- naturalists, so numerous to-day, were then few and far apart — it was to kill, not to combine entertaining study with killing in moderation. Hence, when untrained eyes did not know how to look, they misread many of the signs. They saw the male grouse upon his favorite drumming- log, saw him flap his wings, heard the drumming, and jumped to the conclusion that the grouse got upon a log because he wanted to thump it with his wings and so produce the sound. It never occurred to them that a bird's wings striking a log could not produce the sound, or that wings so used would of necessity speedily wear out, or at least show plain evidence of hard usage. So they told about seeing grouse beat logs with their wings, and their listeners, or readers, not knowing any better, accepted the stories. The fact is that the drumming grouse beats only the air and possibly his own body with his wings. Variations of the habit are common n2 The Grouse Family among gallinaceous birds. The wing-clapping of the domestic cock is too well known to require comment. The gobbler, wild and tame, and the peacock make a rustling with the wings. The pheasant makes a peculiar whirring; pigeons, a vigorous clapping. If any one will pass his hand over a tame gobbler engaged in strutting, he will at once notice that the bird feels as though he were full of air. Parts of him are. In the re- gion of the crop, and along the sides under the wings, he feels like a big, feathery bladder. Startle him, or slap him smartly, and he may let the air out through his mouth with a rush. If he be suf- ficiently tame to stand it, pat him smartly in rapid succession with the open hands, and the sound will be a muffled beating, not at all unlike the drumming of the grouse. A well-directed boot against a foot-ball produces a somewhat similar thump, and the writer has drummed no bad imita- tion of it upon a well-filled punching-bag. To stalk and closely approach a drumming grouse is a comparatively easy task, provided the stalker move cautiously until reasonably near, and then stirs only while the drummer is in action. A good glass, which, by the way, every intelligent observer should carry, will reveal some interesting facts. The bird may drum upon a log — the favorite place — or a stump, a mossy stone, an ant-hill, or even upon level ground, — notes care- The Ruffed Grouse 113 fully made include all of these. To the drum- ming-place the bird will return day after day, sometimes for more than one season. Most coun- try boys know where is a drumming-log. When inclined to drum, the male mounts the log, or whatever it may be, and for a time moves to and fro, peering this way and that and ap- parently listening intently. While so doing his plumage presents a loosely ruffled appearance, his wings half-trailing, his tail half-spread. Pres- ently he puffs himself up, throws his head far back, elevates his beautiful fan of a tail and spreads it to the complete semicircle. He is now in the pose of a strutting gobbler, or peacock, and he looks somewhat like a brown fantail pigeon. The tufts on his neck are elevated and spread, the wings are trailing, and he struts, sometimes with a quick forward movement like a gobbler, occa- sionally merely turning this way and that, like a peacock, this whenever what he is on affords scant room for evolutions. Next, the head is thrust forward to the full length of the neck, the tail is partially closed and lowered almost to the level of the back, and he assumes the position of a cock upon a fence the instant before starting to crow. Then the wing-beats begin — at first slow and measured, then quicker and quicker until the separate beats are lost, thus: Buff buff buff buff— buff— buff— buff-buff-burr-r-r-r! ii4 Tbe Grouse Family The sound is peculiar, difficult to describe and as difficult to locate, for it unquestionably has great ventriloquial power. Sometimes it is strongly suggestive of low, distant thunder, especially when the opening beats have not been caught. Again it is like the deep, muffled roll of a drum, or the sound of a distant carriage rapidly driven over a short wooden bridge. The writer has more than once been fooled by the sound of wheels coming through the woods. At the conclusion of the effort the bird straightens to his full height and appears to listen for a reply. Should there be no response, he may repeat his performance an indefinite number of times. Some scientists have declared that all the bird's peering about is merely a sharp lookout for the expected female. I will go farther and say that it is of threefold purport — i.e. to locate the fe- male, an approaching rival, or a skulking peril. While in the act of drumming, the bird appears to be oblivious to everything but its own passion. This is why it can be stalked. The instant the drumming ceases the bird seems to realize that it has been taking chances, so it carefully scrutinizes every yard of its surroundings. Let the stalker then make the slightest move and there will be no more drumming for some time. A grouse flushed directly from the drumming-place is apt to forsake it altogether. My theory is that the Tbe Ruffed Grouse 115 grouse thoroughly understands the situation ; that while he hopes to see an admiring hen, or hens, — for he's a regular Turk, — he knows he may see a man, or a lynx, or a fox, or some other cold-hearted brute. Or, worse yet, one or other may be there and he not see quite soon enough ! Meanwhile, the hen, or hens, have been listening to the drumming and admiring the performer. They are somewhat like some larger hens, inas- much as a bold front compels their admiration ; also, because they know that a shy, timorous, mind-all-ready-made-up-but-it's-so-sudden sort of a policy is the deadliest. So, being wise virgins possessed of a few shares of standard oil, they're in no great hurry. Eventually he weds the lot, if there be a lot, conducts a harem for a time — then deserts them, one and all. Should the response to the drummer's effort be a male, there speedily is trouble. The old, old struggle for the survival of the fittest is — well — fit ! They go together with all the dash and spirit one would expect of such game, strong fellows, and frequently the battle is furious and prolonged. Out of a maelstrom of whirling fight, one presently emerges, minus some blood and feathers, but plus some useful knowledge, and the subsequent proceedings in that woody Eden interest him no more. The duties of choosing a site for the nest, n6 The Grouse Family attending to the slight construction thereof, and hatching the eggs, devolves upon the female. There is some difference of opinion about this, but I am convinced that, as a rule, the male deserts his mate so soon as the breeding season is over. It may be that when, as sometimes happens, there are but one male and one female in a certain cover, they remain together, but I have yet to flush two old birds with a brood of chicks. The nest usually is well concealed, but there are exceptions to this. It may be under a log or an overhanging rock, between the roots of a stump, or tree, in a thicket, a fallen top, under a brush-pile, or exposed in an open spot. As an architect the grouse has no claim to distinction; a slight hollow scratched in the ground and roughly lined with leaves, grass, or pine needles, is all it requires. The eggs vary through shades of buff with brown spots. The number ranges from eight to about a dozen. The period of in- cubation begins about the first of May and lasts nearly four weeks. The hen sticks very close to the nest, and if driven away seldom goes farther than is absolutely necessary for her own safety. The young run as soon as the down on them is dry. They are very active and able to hide in the merest trifle of cover. The hen grouse is a model mother. Until the young are sufficiently strong to roost upon Tbe Ruffed Grouse 117 branches, she covers them as a domestic hen covers her chicks. Young grouse, like young turkeys, cannot stand a wetting; this the mother knows, and she is careful not to lead them through wet cover. At the first sign of rain she calls them up, never herself heeding a liberal spattering so long as the chicks are dry under her. Up to a certain age young grouse are the most delicate of all game, and, could the figures be obtained, it is extremely likely they would show a loss of at least one-third of the young before they had attained the size of quail. This, of course, tak- ing the average for a number of seasons. Five consecutive favorable seasons, />. dry from the hatching time till the chicks are past the critical stage, would mean a grand lot of birds. The conditions reversed would surely mean a marked scarcity. There is a species of tick which plays the mischief ; and I suspect that a disease closely akin to the roup which occasionally prevails among young poultry is accountable for a deal of the losses. As is true of many other birds, when once the grouse has run the gauntlet of infantile disorders, it becomes as hardy and rugged a bird as can be found. The food con- sists of " mast," many sorts of wild berries, wild grapes, the foliage of wintergreen, buttercups, partridge-berry, clover, and other growths, grass- hoppers, crickets, and, no doubt, other insects. n8 The Grouse Family During winter the principal food is the buds of birch and other trees. Not infrequently it resorts to the leaves of the alder, which impart to the flesh a pronounced bitter taste. Birds so fed and left long undrawn are apt to prove poisonous to persons eating freely of them. The young feed upon insects and various tender growths. When a brood is half grown it changes its roosting habit and takes to the trees, those of medium size and overgrown with grape-vines being most favored. About this time, too, the young acquire the treeing habit, and ever after, when flushed by a dog, they are apt to tree. The writer had a peculiar experience with a brood about the size of quail. He was fishing, and had for a comrade a young pointer dog, all liver color. This pup, as pups will, found fishing not suffi- ciently strenuous to hold his attention for long, so to help pass time he started a lone-hand raid of an adjacent thicket. A sudden tremendous uproar attracted my attention, and, to my aston- ishment, I saw an old hen grouse vigorously be- laboring the bewildered pup with her wings and giving him a piece of her mind in a torrent of cacklings, such as I had never dreamed a grouse capable of uttering. The poor pup, after first trying to make a point, and then to grab her, finally bolted in dismay. She followed him for about a dozen yards, beating him about the rump The Ruffed Grouse 119 with her wings, which kept up a thunderous whirring. She acted exactly like a wrathful old fowl, and the pup like a condemned fool. The utter discomfiture of the pup, the abruptness of the interruption, and the astounding valor of the old hen gave me temporary paresis, for, in trying to see a little more, I forgot where I was, stepped off my rock, and brought up in about four feet of ice-cold water. To first swear, then secure the pup and lie low for developments, was a natural sequence. The young were in the trees, several of them visible after a cautious scrutiny, and in about ten min- utes there sounded a low, musical chirruping very like the sound emitted by a red squirrel between the coughing, sputtering notes. Presently one and another of the young responded with cries like those of very young turkeys ; then one after another fluttered down and ran to their anxious mother. An interesting query is, for what did the mother mistake the dog? for I am convinced that she had no idea what he was. Possibly she took him for a fox, or a wolf, for surely her in- stinct would have warned her not to try such tactics with one of the cat kind, any of which almost certainly would have destroyed her with one sweep of a nimble paw. A possible solution is that she did not at all understand the silent, 120 Tbe Grouse Family halting, uniformly colored enemy, and bravely took the chances of a desperate bluff. This inci- dent is one of the most striking illustrations of the devotion of the hen which the writer can recall. The usual course of the mother bird is to throw herself in the path of the intruder, and, by simulating lameness, to draw him after her and away from the hiding chicks. This pretty deceit is one of the most touching sights which reward the observant bird-lover. The treeing habit of the grouse, once a great protection to it, is now its bane. This is an interesting point, as it strikingly illustrates the folly of sticking to old-fashioned methods after improvements have been introduced, and also that folly of follies — underestimating the ability of one's opponent, ^ons on aeons ago the grouse developed the trick of taking to a tree to avoid peril terrestrial, and no doubt it considered itself a very smart bird. At that time, strangely enough, its two winning cards in the game of life and death were taking to a tree and leaving a tree. Being a bud-eater at certain sea- sons, the grouse naturally sought the trees for food. Among the branches it was comparatively safe from quadrupeds, although some of its foes were clever climbers. But there were others, — the birds of prey, — and to avoid these the grouse went back to earth. So it played its game of The Ruffed Grouse 121 going to the trees to escape its four-footed foes, and dropping to the rocks and brush to baffle winged ones, and this must have answered very well for a long time, for the grouse flourished and waxed fat. His one human foe was then an Indian, clever with bow and arrow and snares; but still the treeing trick was useful, for good arrows were easily lost if shot upward among trees ; the grouse was comparatively small game, while an Indian hated to make arrows as he hated labor in any form. But the old-fashioned firearm eventually became common, and at once the grouse's erstwhile strong point became its deadly weakness. No doubt birds that were once wounded in trees learned to trust to their wings when next man approached, for to-day the grouse, except in remote corners, will seldom tree unless the man be accompanied by a dog. A grouse educated on modern principles — i.e. one that has enjoyed the questionable advantage of feeling lead driven through some part of it — seldom offers a second fair chance ; but all are not so wise. To most of them the dog is merely the old four-footed peril — a foxlike creature unable to climb, against which a tree is an absolute safeguard. Naturally enough the first impulse is to at once take the oft-tried remedy for a well-understood evil. Hence we see birds tree above the dog and remain calmly 122 The Grouse Family looking down at the intruder, and even moving upon the limbs as though only slightly interested in the whole business. But let the man follow the dog, and a change takes place. One of two things happens — either the grouse leave the tree, or they stretch to their full height and re- main bolt upright and perfectly motionless. When so posed only an experienced eye can readily detect them, for they would easily pass for so many decayed and broken stubs. Even the skilled sportsman, who knows this habit of the bird, and who is warned by the actions of the dog that the game is somewhere in a tree imme- diately above, frequently has difficulty in locating the quarry. His safest plan is first to let his eye follow the trunk to the top, as the probability is that the game will be perched near the trunk. If this fails, the next thing is to begin at the lowest limb and examine it from the trunk to the tip, and repeat the process limb after limb. This, of course, must eventually locate the bird ; but the sportsman will do well to keep his gun ready for swift action. Strange as it may appear, the bird seems to know the instant it is observed ; then it at once takes wing. A flushed grouse is apt to fly straight away from the rising-point and in ordinary woods not very far. Should the bird keep low, the chances are that it will pitch upon the ground; but if the last view of it shows a The Ruffed Grouse 123 raising of the line of flight, it probably means that the bird has gone to a tree. A thorough scrutiny of the trees about where the bird dis- appeared is then worth while. The question of the propriety of shooting a treed grouse must be left to the discretion and sportsmanship of the individual in pursuit. The writer is a thorough believer in pure sport for sport's sake; he prides himself upon having a clean record from boyhood onward, and he frankly admits having shot many a treed grouse, and this after he was considered a very fair shot. While caring nothing for the dead bird except as a dainty fare for himself, or a gift to a friend, he never hesitates over trimming the head off a perching bird whenever, in his judgment, the conditions forbid the hope of anything like a fair flying shot. So long as the nature of the cover offers a reasonably open field, true sportmanship would insist upon the bird being given perhaps a bit the best of the odds ; otherwise, it is merely a problem of how badly one needs that particular grouse. The same thing will apply to a bird seen running — by the way, none too easy a proposition. Very often in thickets such shots are quite pardon- able. Those who care for the small rifle may find pleasure in using it on treed birds ; yet it is ques- tionable if such shooting is true sport, for even an ordinary performer would seldom fail at such 124 The Grouse Family short range. He will, of course, only aim at the head or neck, for any duffer might hit the big body and spoil meat. Apropos of the rifle, two peculiar shots are worth mentioning. A party of us were in the Mattawa moose country. The particular day was Sunday, and the camp rule was the only right one. We were lounging about on the moss, and I happened to be oiling a Winchester 45-90. Suddenly the guide pointed to a big hemlock about fifty yards away and remarked: "See the sunlight on that fur — it's a marten." Amid the blackness of the centre of the hemlock was a sin- gle splash of light, and it glowed upon what appeared to be red fur. "And the Sabbath law is?" I asked the judge. " To plug all martens every day — to shoot from where you sit, and to allow the court to shoot one deer in the water if you miss. So mote it be ! " was his Honor's decision. At the report the marten shook loose about a peck of feathers, and went roaring away to a near-by ravine, shedding more feathers every yard. Before it reached cover the wings were set, and it slanted down at an amazing pace. The guide chased after, while we stared at each other, and the court muttered an astonished "Well — I'll — be — d !" Soon the guide Tbe Ruffed Grouse 125 came back with a bobtailed grouse, which he passed round for inspection. The big ball had hit it squarely in the rump, carrying away inches of the back and most of the intestines ; the legs hung by mere shreds of skin and flesh, yet the bird had flown fully twenty yards, and finished its trip upon dead, set wings. The other shot was different, but with the same rifle, which, by the way, had a tinkered stock with a shotgun plate for quick work. The party had insisted upon one day's hounding, and knowing my penchant for still hunting, had sent me off to a small island, a mere rock, where, as the judge said, " It would be good and still all day." The chances were a thousand to one against any deer coming to that rock, but they had been known to take that course, so there was need of a guard. For hours there was nothing doing. The dogs were clanging through the woods far to the east- ward, while a lazy man lay and stared at the dreamy landscape, or played with the wintergreen which matted his couch. At last something did come — a big grouse, presumably after wintergreen. He lit on a short stub, at once saw the enemy, and promptly drew himself up and stiffened. He never moved while the rifle was brought to the ready, then he sud- denly discovered gold quartz, and set off to file his claim, or something. He went as only a The Grouse Family scared grouse a quarter of a mile from cover can go, and the ball caught him fair in the back when he had travelled about forty yards. Then the man behind the gun stared at the bird in the water, and wondered why Fate had seen fit to weave that particular mesh, why the ball had hap- pened to touch the mark, and why there was more genuine satisfaction over the kill than there would have been had the mark been a buck. It sometimes appears as though the grouse yet preserved a trace of an old-time migratory instinct which impels it about mid-autumn to wander far from its usual haunts. A paragraph referring to the capture or sight of a live bird in the centre of some large town or city may be found in many a paper, and always about the end of September or early in October. Birds which have struck the wires above busy streets are not unfrequently picked up, and these things go to show that some grouse are given to taking long night flights. The writer's old home lies within the limits of a small city, and fully a mile and a half from the nearest possible grouse cover, yet he has several times seen, and more than once shot, grouse (each time a lone bird) in his garden. Once a big cock smashed through a pane of glass and took refuge under a parlor sofa. There were many specimens of stuffed game in that room, and if the glass- smashing bird yearned for a place among the Tbe Ruffed Grouse 127 chosen, he had his desire. One of the grouse in that collection, an unusually large and very brown specimen, has large ruffs of a lightish chocolate color instead of the usual black. Before leaving the question of partial migration, a reference to some peculiar encounters with grouse in town may not be out of place. Just before the writer bade farewell to his " teens," he and his chosen comrades played ball enthusiasti- cally and fairly well. The best all-round player was a small, wiry chap whose specialty was catch- ing. Upon wet days the chimney swifts used to skim low through the streets and one time this chap made a fair catch of one. The shock killed the swift, but that didn't matter. Shortly after the writer also caught a swift and broke its neck in so doing. That didn't matter either; but what did matter was that two young prigs went strut- ting about as the great and only bird-catchers, and naturally as rivals. Some time after the writer had occasion to interview his rival and he found him sunning himself on the roof of a shed. As the conversation opened, something whizzed above the roof, the rival made a leap and a grab, and landed on his head in a manure-pile. Clutched in his fist was a big piece of skin and a lot of feathers which clearly belonged to a ruffed grouse — the poor bird buzzed on and in its fright darted into a shed, where it was later found and 128 The Grouse Family mercifully despatched. That settled the rivalry. Anybody who could grab ruffed grouse in this parabolic manner and land soft, clearly outclassed the writer, and the citizens hardened their hearts against him amid revilings. It was indeed a bitter dose to swallow ! Years later, when the writer had whiskers, he was turning a corner in the same town, when something like a brown shell came humming by. A naturally quick hand had gained speed from sparring, and out it flashed. There was an amazing shock, but it closed tightly on a grouse, and it made the bones crack before it let go too ! R-e-v-e-n-g-e ! And hey for the rival, at last out- done ! That worthy examined the bird, demanded the story of its capture, listened attentively, spat, returned the bird, spat again, and crisply remarked: "Yer a liar! I sold that bird to Blank four days ago ! " Some fellows are simply insufferable ! After the young grouse have reached maturity, they will remain with the mother throughout the winter unless too much harassed. The old males join the broods late in the fall, and each lot selects its winter range. Before the severe cold and deep snow they are apt to favor high-lying cover, growths of beeches, to which the leaves cling long, brier patches, and brushy ground. At The Ruffed Grouse 129 this time they frequently roost in the trees, especially in vine-encumbered ones. After the winter has fairly set in and the snow becomes deep, most of the birds retire to lowlands, such as heavily timbered swamps and extensive growths of tall saplings. From these sanctuaries they forage the surrounding more open country, speed- ing back to the heavier cover when alarmed. In regions of heavy snow, the birds creep into low, snug growths and often allow themselves to be deeply covered. They also never hesitate over plunging into a drift and burrowing under to the warmest of quarters. The track and the holes made by the bird entering and leaving the snow have been noted by most of the sportsmen who go afield very late in the season. It has been claimed that many grouse fall victims to crust, as do the quail. Proof of this I have never seen in spite of much winter shooting, but I have repeatedly seen the holes in firm crust through which the grouse had passed to freedom. It may be that my experience has been an exceptional one, but I have never found a dead grouse in the woods that had not been either snared or shot. The flight of a big, strong grouse is the per- sonification of headlong dash with power. It rises with a sudden, thunderous whirring which never fails to stir the very cockles of a veteran's heart, and which plays the deuce with the nerves 130 Tbe Grouse Family of a novice. There is no drag or hesitancy about it, the bird gets to top speed within a few yards, and where there is thick cover — characteristic grouse cover — he plunges for the thickest of it like a cannon-ball. One might be pardoned for marvelling how the bird manages to escape colli- sions with close-standing trunks or heavy boughs, but it does, and whizzes away with a neatness and despatch positively wonderful to behold. Yet, fast as it goes, the bird has perfect control over its course, and never forgets to take advantage of the first convenient shelter. It will whisk behind the nearest trunk and then dart away with that trunk exactly in a line between itself and the gun. Grouse unnumbered have been saved by this clever trick, and tons of shot have been stopped too soon by the saving trees. This habit of dodg- ing behind shot-proof obstacles is peculiar to the ruffed grouse ; whether it be the result of educa- tion, or is purely instinctive, is an open question. Whichever it be, it frequently is possible to out- manoeuvre it by going up to the flush a bit to one side of the pointing dog, instead of directly in his rear as most men do. The partial flanking movement, in the majority of instances, will insure a more or less quartering shot — a bit more difficult than a straightaway drive, but less liable to interference. That the shooting of this bird is difficult goes with* The Ruffed Grouse 131 without saying, yet the fault of the great majority of misses lies with the shooter. The trouble with most men is that they shoot too quick. The grouse has a knack of springing precisely when and where he is not expected. This, coupled with the roaring flush, shakes any except the service-steadied nerve — usual result, some- thing closely akin to blind snap-shooting. But the true cause of perhaps half the misses is undershooting. In most cases the bird is rising and rushing forward at the same time ; the broad tail with its conspicuous black band catches the eye, and the gun is held on the tail — which means just under the bird, instead of where it should be, a couple of inches or more above the rising back. The tail, too, helps a man to miss squarely crossing shots by increasing the appar- ent length of the bird. This causes one to think he is centring the bird, when in reality he is centring the length of the mark from bill to tail- tip. This means that he is covering the after portion of the body, when he should be slightly ahead of the region of the crop. This difference of several inches actual measurement is enough to place the bird without the deadly zone of the charge and within the zone of scattered pellets, even at very short range. Sportsmen who have tried the pheasants of Great Britain, or the varie- ties of the pheasant which have been acclimatized 1 32 The Grouse Family in this country, understand how much a conspic- uous tail may mislead an eye trained to accuracy on short-tailed game. The writer is a stanch believer in the value of holding well ahead of all angling and crossing game of whatever species. Not one in one hundred is missed through over- leading, for even when the gun is inches too far in advance, a single diverging pellet may yet prove deadly, because, if it touches any part of the quarry, that part is apt to be of the head, the neck, the region of the heart, or a wing. So many writers have referred to the noisy flush of the ruffed grouse, that the belief is prevalent that the bird always rises upon loud- sounding pinions. This is erroneous. When unalarmed, the bird rises without any noticeable whirring. SOME GLIMPSES OF GROUSING The best ruffed grouse shooting the writer has enjoyed has been in the grand covers of Wiscon- sin, Michigan, and western Ontario, the merits of the grounds ranking in order as named. The most difficult sport was in the Red River Valley, the mighty growths of British Columbia, and the mountains of Pennsylvania. Let us take a peep at each in turn. Imagine a long, easy, sun-kissed slope in the most beautiful section of the magnificent " Badger Some Glimpses of Grousing 133 state " — time mid-afternoon. Half of this slope is gleaming stubble which rolls in sleepy, golden billows to a strand of dull crimsons and cooling bronze, where the waist-high scrub-oaks and briers and dwarf hazels weave together, glowing like some huge rare rug of Orient spread over the everlasting hills. Beyond all this, stern ramparts of grim gray stone, hearsed with som- bre pines, beneath which trail heavy crimson ban- ners of creepers, as though flung earthward in grief for the passing glory of the year. Misting it all, softening where too harsh, transforming dusk corridors into silvery reaches of immeasur- able length, spreads the magic of Indian sum- mer, as though Autumn had flung afar a net of shimmering gossamer in a playful attempt to bind captive each giant of rock and pine. It is indeed a pretty picture, but the prettiest bit of all is in the foreground. It is a group which well might startle those only acquainted with the dignities of metropolitan life and its surroundings. Three figures compose the group, and they are arranged like a wedge. The thin edge of the wedge has been inserted into some of the most picturesque fragments of North Amer- ica— and driven home afterward. It is a dog — a grand white fellow, with the hall-mark of his breeding, a lemon head. Big, and leanly strong, his white coat shining with healthy lustre, his 134 Tbe Grouse Family muscles wirelike from wholesome toil, he stands there as if carved from yon vein of snowy marble gashing the distant cliff. Yards rearward, at the right angle of the base of the wedge, is another and entirely different figure. The coat of a workmanlike brown, the intent, half-crouching pose, graceful in many curves, the poise of the perfect head, the clean- cut profile, expressive eyes, lips parted in mute expectancy, complete as perfect a picture of — A bench winner, did you say ? Man ! what are you talking about ? She's worthy of the bench all right — she'd adorn it too ! but did I really describe her according to the pointer standard. Ye gods ! well, anyhow, there's no sense keeping her standing there. The remaining figure looks like a tramp in its dingy garb, but it feels like a king for the moment at least. The apple of its eye is the grand white dog; the crab-apple of its other eye is the crouch- ing female to the right ; while the glory-about-to- be to both eyes is yet hidden in the stubble. Boo-oo-oo-m ! A big bird roars up, and the man starts violently and rocks backward two inches out of plumb, for instead of the expected "chicken" he sees a fantail with a broad velvet band which is unmistakable. The way that gun remembers and gets into action is a marvel to see, and the bird goes down, despite its speed, not thirty-five yards away. THE RUFFED GROUSE STRUTTING Some Glimpses of Grousing 135 The other figures stanchly hold their points, and a low, eager whisper says, " Good — give it to them ! " Boo-oo-Boo-oo-r-r / One, two, a third, rise and rush for the cover, which the first and second are doomed never to reach. The gun seems to be a live thing, going down, breaking, and spitting out empties of itself and fairly reaching for more shells. Then — Boo-oorr ! again and again, then a general explosion, and half a dozen birds are flung into the air at once. Hasty fingers work in vain this time, for no man living has a license to load after a ruffed fellow has started. The man in question is half rattled by his amazing good fortune, and for the moment he forgets that the lemon-headed dog is wise as serpents are sup- posed to be, and that he is still propped. Says the man, as he half turns, " Little woman, I've shot ruffed grouse from ahem ! to Halifax, but this is the first time ever I tackled 'em in Paradise ! Why ! if I'd had a repeater I could have — - Boo-oo-oom-m ! " The white dog knew ! To whirl, to miss clean, to try a desperate chance with the second — all these were so easy that he did them all there and then. But a random shot will kill, etc., for a curi- ous thing happened. The straightaway bird prob- ably had its head turned to one side, for at the second report it lurched for an instant, appeared 136 The Grouse Family to momentarily stagger in its flight, then up it went in a mighty spiral, as though boring into the blue beyond like a feathered corkscrew. The man had loaded like lightning, and his first impulse was to rush under and shoot the climber. Then he thought of the dog, and of something else, so he stood his ground while he and his comrades stared with big eyes at the strange exhibition. Round and round in narrowing circles, higher and higher, climbed the stricken thing, the shat- tered nerve refusing to act, the blind eyes failing to direct as the game heart wished. Up and up, in smaller and smaller circles, with fan full- spread and whirring wings, it toiled with nervous strength, until it looked like a golden lark, for the old sun was sorry to see it and glorified its dying agony. At last the seemingly small wings stilled and set full-spread, the legs stretched stiffly, and like a kite with broken string it started earth- ward. " I'll catch it," said the man, as he laid down his gun and sped forward with long leaps. He did catch it without breaking a feather. He showed the woman where the single pellet had struck. " The rest are all down yonder in the scrub, and we'll get — " here he happened to glance into the woman's eyes and hastily changed what he had intended to say into, "the rest some other Some Glimpses of Grousing 137 time. That is," — he continued (for he had learned about women from other women), "if ever I molest this lot again." "Poor thing," she half sighed, "it was so — " then she stopped. " I'll stuff it for you myself," he remarked, as he picked up the gun and turned homeward. Her eyes shone with pleasure. " What devilish queer things they are, anyhow," muttered that same man to himself next morning as he ploughed into the brush behind the white dog's first point. Boo-oo-om-m I — Boo-oo-m ! — Bang ! " Hi ! this is where I get even — one of you fan- tailed fools almost got me into trouble yesterday," chuckled the man, and he grinned with a devilish glee. Along a certain Wisconsin steep runs a pecul- iar steplike formation — a smooth pathway one- third of a mile long. Upon one side and for many feet above rises a huge slope of forested rock, which, upon the outer side of the path, falls away into a dim ravine, so deep that only the tallest of its tree-tops rise above the level of the path. Viewed from the end, the effect is that of a natural picture gallery hung with many gor- geous " bits " (where the creepers and sumach droop) from that master-hand of all. The ruffed grouse love such places, as they 138 The Grouse Family love the old logging roads and ancient trails. To merely walk through that grand corridor would be a treat for any lover of the world beautiful; but to walk through with gun at the ready and a grouse apt to spring any moment, to dart into the corridor and speed the length of it in full view, was — well, it was one of those higher walks of life so frequently mentioned in print, yet so seldom thoroughly enjoyed. That corridor used to be good for sometimes half a dozen birds, and in it, considering the beauty of the surroundings and everything, the writer en- joyed the finest grouse-shooting he has ever known. It had variety too, for now and then a wise bird would go boring up the height, or take a dive into the ravine and fall dead, away below, which, of course, meant a risky descent and a return climb worthy of a youthful politician, or a rib-nosed mandrill, or anything that aspires to climb. In Michigan there is a region — the natives call it the " Popples." There the poplar brush is reasonable, and a man may get fair chances and many of them before the sun sinks below the black forest line. In other places most of the shooting must needs be done in the big woods, or about their borders. There is, or perhaps there was, one rare good bit where a slashing for Some Glimpses of Grousing 139 a county line, or a road, had been cut for miles through the woods. The trees had been felled so the tops lay together, which formed a continu- ous brush-pile sometimes for a mile at a stretch. At intervals the land fell away to low swampy expanses bearing much thicket. Along this line, especially when there were two guns, to cover both sides of the brush, the shooting used to be fine. Frequently one could see the grouse mov- ing about under the brush, and fifty times a snap- shot camera might have " caught " the writer with gun in left hand and a club, or snowball, in the right, as he prepared to hurl in the missile to start some grouse which hesitated about leav- ing such excellent cover. To give an idea of the number of birds — one well-remembered day's bag was twenty-six and a few hares, to two guns. That day at least fifty birds were flushed, the peculiar cover saving about half of them. The sport of the Red River Valley would be fine were it not for the nature of the cover, which, far north at least, is mainly long slim saplings, so closely crowded that free swinging of the gun is impossible. The writer is a quick shot and not awkward in brush, but the grouse of Mani- toba have no great cause to regret his visits. " What you think about it ? " he once asked a quaint old hunter who was guiding him in the 140 Tbe Grouse Family brush, and who openly yearned for chicken-shoot- ing in the grass, and who still further had an exas- perating habit of bawling, " Did-you-git-h-i-m ? " every time a miss occurred, and invariably keeping silent when the few kills were scored. " Pretty good — what there is of it," said the old man, and when asked if there wasn't enough of it, he replied, " Oh, yes, there's a-plenty of it — such as it is." No bad description of the sport in these covers. In British Columbia the sport, as found, could not compare with that of the East. Those who know the wonderful western province will readily guess why. In many places the trees almost rival the famous big conifers of California, and they are crowded together as thickly as it is possible for such mighty trunks to stand. Fre- quently the lower spaces are filled with ferns of such size and luxuriance as to suggest semitropic lands rather than a portion of Canada. In such cover the keenest of guns can do little or nothing. The writer is over six feet tall, but in that cover he felt like a veritable babe in the wood. The size of the firs was almost oppressive — but the ferns — ye gods ! such ferns. In places they grow like the big western corn, close and rank, tower- ing a yard or more above one's head. If any of them come under the classification of " maiden- Some Glimpses of Grousing 141 hair," they certainly would suggest a lithesome wee maid of about the proportions of Goliath of Gath. Among them, grouse after grouse can buzz away unseen, while, in addition, the tremen- dous fronds combine to form a most baffling light. Western Ontario need not be dwelt upon. The country is very level, the best grounds being moderately open woods, ordinary thickets, brier patches, and the brushy beds of dry creeks. In the greater part of this cover a quick, good shot should gather half his birds early in the season, and do better than that after the leaves are down. As a whole it is a reasonably fair country. In Pennsylvania, however, things are somewhat different ; in fact the mountainous portions of that state, much of it good grouse country too, will tax a man's strength, wind, and skill to the limit. Very frequently the birds will be found high up steep hillsides, and when flushed in such places they are apt to go plunging down to the bottom of the valleys at an astounding rate. Now, a grouse going downhill moves as if possessed of a devil, and it does things not at all calculated to shorten its life. To a man who has slowly climbed the Blue Ridge, who has reached the top half winded, and acquired a sneaking suspicion that the sporting fixture of the day is not strictly on 142 The Grouse Family the level, the ruffed rascal is a startling menace against the pure joy of the great subsequent. What he will see probably will resemble a brown streak which curves over the rim of the height and fairly sizzles valleyward in a peculiar zigzagging, downward boring, which he is apt to hope will result fatally, yet which seldom does. To swing a gun three ways at once is a serious task for ordinary hands — in the writer's opinion a man-of-war with all hands busy couldn't do it — yet the hill-grouse of Pennsylvania will unblushingly ask a newcomer to do this very thing. And when a bird of chance flies into the hail of lead, one's triumph is too brief to talk about. When you hit one, you hit it fair, and the jar lifts it just enough to send it clear of every- thing, down and down till it fetches up either in some impetuous and thoughtless trout-stream which will rush it a mile away before you can clamber down to where it fell, or else it will land in some Dutchman's field which is "posted." Then you have to go home and learn Dutch be- fore you can explain to the owner of the land why you are trespassing, and when you get back the late owner's grandson is working the farm, and he insists that all claims against the estate were settled by his father years before he died. Or if, as sometimes happens, you actually gather the bird before it gets too high, you look Sabine's Grouse up at the serene brow of the hill and start to register a vow that it would be sacrilege to re- invade that lofty, holy calm. Before you are half through registering, you suddenly remember that the lunch is up there, alongside of a spring, that the flask is cooling in the limpid depths. Then a friendly Dutchman appears, greets you pleasantly, and tells you there are plenty of grouse up there, adding as an inducement, that you can see ever so far south, the great storied ground — the battle- fields. Surely you. want to see the battlefields ? If you don't kill him on the spot, you look him squarely in the eye and in the smooth, convincing tone of a steamboat's siren you say : " No, sir ! I don't want to see any battlefields — War — is — hel-1-1-1 !" Of course all Pennsylvania isn't on edge. There are noble valleys and grand interspaces, but the higher form of sport quite naturally is on top of the hills. A chemical analysis of the writer's record there might read : lead, in paying quanti- ties ; saltpetre, abundant ; language, rich ; slaugh- ter, a trace. SABINE'S GROUSE (j5. u. sabini) Adult male and female — Upper parts, mostly dark, rusty chestnut, with black mottling; rump and upper tail-coverts grayish in many specimens ; flanks, rusty, barred with black ; tail, deep rust color, with irregular black bars, and tipped with gray ; sub- 144 Tbe Grouse Family terminal band, black, with bar of gray above ; under tail-coverts, orange, barred with black and V-shaped white mark at tip; feathers of thigh, brownish. Total length, about 17^ inches; wings, 7 £ ; tail, 6|. Habitat — Coast range of mountains, from northern British Columbia to California. As will be noticed in the measurements, Sabine's, or the Oregon grouse, is a trifle larger than its better-known relation of the East. To give honor where 'tis due, this bird is also the handsomest of all ruffed grouse, the rich, reddish tone of its plumage being warmer and more pleas- ing than the grayish cast of the other. I have shot this bird at a dozen or more points in British Columbia, and found its habits to be the same as those of its relatives of seldom-disturbed sections of Maine and the Canadian provinces. The food consists of insects, seeds, berries, leaves, and buds. It is, as a rule, excellent eating, but occasionally the flesh has an unpleasant flavor owing to some special diet. The nest, eggs, and young resemble those of B. umbellus. Owing to the nature of the cover of the west coast, Sabine's grouse seldom affords much sport, the majority of the birds which reach the table being trapped. THE CANADIAN RUFFED GROUSE (B. u. t ogata) While our highest scientific authorities have agreed to consider this bird a subspecies of the The Canadian Ruffed Grouse 145 ruffed grouse, the writer confesses his inability to distinguish between the two birds, either by a grayer cast of plumage, measurements, or for that matter by any reliable marking or lack of mark- ing. He has shot hundreds of them, all told, which were natives of every Canadian province except one, and he could no more swear to their identity as B. u. togata, as distinct from B. um- bellus, than he could swear how many times they had been missed before he happened to hold on the right spot. An open confession is good for the soul, and he will further confess that he believes the shrewdest bird-sharp of them all couldn't tell which from tother, not even if he first picked them feather by feather and then ate them at his scientific ease. As chief magistrate pro tern., I have sentenced grouse to be shot, hung, drawn (both ways), and quartered (halved is better as it insures a squarer deal in the matter of dressing) ; I have bagged "smoky tufts," black tufts, brown tufts, and no tufts ; gray tails, grayish brown tails, and reddish brown tails ; I have had all but one of them in the same bag, and killed a brown tail with one barrel and a gray tail with the other ; and after a careful consideration of the case my decision is, " The ruffed grouse is subject to considerable variation in plumage, said variation not being thoroughly understood by this or any other court." 146 The Grouse Family THE GRAY RUFFED GROUSE (B. u. Mmbelloides) In the Rocky Mountain region, from Colorado, through western Dakota, Montana, Idaho, and British Columbia, to the Yukon valley in Alaska, is found this subspecies of the ruffed grouse. It may readily be distinguished from B. umbellus by its smaller size and the pronounced grayness of the ground color of the plumage. While it appears to prefer the dense cover of the banks of streams and slight elevations, it has been taken far up the sides of the loftiest peaks — as high as nine or ten thousand feet. Its favorite food is the buds of the spruce, which impart to the flesh a flavor which might appeal to the palate of an eastern spruce gum chewer, but which signally fails to hold the appreciative attention of an epicure, unless he also happens to be a lost prospector keen for a " grub-stake." The average length of this bird is about \\\ inches; wing 7^; tail, 6. I have never shot this bird. The few specimens which I have seen and handled in the flesh were brought aboard the tug upon which, with friends interested in timber, I penetrated some of the fiord-like sections of the northern coast of British Columbia. The Dusky Grouse 147 THE DUSKY GROUSE (Dendragapus obscurus) Adult male — Forehead, dull rufous ; back of head, brownish black, with rusty markings, or all slate color ; back of neck and upper parts, a mixture of blackish brown, lighter brown, and gray, fre- quently mottled; scapulars streaked with white along shafts; white space on sides of neck; throat, white with black mot- tlings; sides of head, black; lower parts, slate color, flanks mottled with brown, the feathers streaked on shafts and tipped with white; under tail-coverts, blackish brown, showing gray barring, blackish mottling and bordering and white tips ; tail, rounded, black, ending in broad gray band; primaries, dark brown, outer webs and tips mottled with gray ; legs covered to toes with pale brown feathers ; bill, horn color. Total length, about 20 inches ; wing, about 9^ ; tail, 8 ; tarsus, if. Adult female — Upper parts, mottled with black and buff; feathers usually tipped with white; wings, grayish brown, barred and mottled with buff, streaked and tipped with white; primaries, dark brown; throat, buff; sides and front of neck and chest, dark rusty gray with buffy white bars and tips ; rest of under parts, slate, the flank-feathers with black and buff mottlings and white tips ; central tail-feathers, blackish brown, with gray- ish brown bars mottled with black ; rest of tail, black, with slight gray mottlings, and ending in gray band. Total length, about 17 inches; wing, about 8|; tail, 6. Habitat — Rocky Mountains from southern Idaho, Montana, and western South Dakota to New Mexico and Arizona. This grand species is, with the single exception of the big cock-of-the-plains, the largest and at the same time one of the finest of American grouse. It delights in dense, elevated forests, ranging upward from about two thousand feet to the timber line. Among western sportsmen it is termed the " blue," or " gray," grouse, and 148 The Grouse Family those who have enjoyed the pleasure of shooting and later eating it have yet to be heard from in the line of adverse criticism. Its sole fault as a game bird consists in its seldom being found in cover which affords a fair chance to the gun. In fact, it is such an inveterate lover of trees that it takes to the branches as naturally as a duck takes to water. Like the ruffed grouse, it will tree, and remain motionless until it fancies it has been observed ; then it at once departs with a sound- ing rush, which may only be stopped by the quick- est and most skilled of shots. I have flushed it when it seemed to do hardly anything more than leap from the ground to a convenient limb, and more than once, while seeking to trim off its head, it has left the perch so suddenly that the gun could not be shifted in time to prevent the wast- ing of a shell — and this little joke at the expense of a notoriously quick shot. Could this grouse be induced to take to what in the case of ruffed grouse would be fair cover, it would furnish sport not surpassed by any of its family. Only those familiar with the western cover can understand how easy it is to fail to bag at short range a bird about as large as a common barn- yard hen — to be accurate, of between three and three and one-half pounds' weight. The tender- foot would imagine such a bird, rising close at hand, to be an easy, perhaps too easy, mark. The Dusky Grouse 149 Let the tenderfoot climb the steeps and try a few blue grouse as they leave the trees, and his song may take on an undertone suggestive of blasted hopes and trust betrayed. In the first place, the cover usually is standing timber big enough to stop a locomotive, to say nothing of small shot. This timber, as I found it, is about as close as it can stand, thereby forming something closely akin to a gigantic stockade with extremely narrow inter- spaces. Imagine a picket fence enlarged to Titanic proportions with a swift bird whizzing along one side, while from the other side the gun strove to stop him as he crossed the gaps. Such a fence would have a deal more picket than gap, and a series of kills would represent a heap more luck than good management on the part of the shooter. Shooting through such an obstacle would mean that when the bird was visible the gun would, or should, be just ahead and swinging at equal speed, which would further mean that the trigger would have to be pulled either while the bird was invisi- ble or while the gun was squarely on a picket — a somewhat bitter experience has proved that almost invariably the gun was on the picket, and that the picket was some feet thick and utterly unreasonable. This grouse also is most difficult to locate even when perched upon a limb only a few yards away. In its native woods the light is baffling and there 150 Tbe Grouse Family is a confusion of shade, amid which the general slaty tone of the plumage is barely distinguishable. A coat of feathers especially designed with a view to protective coloration could not better serve the purpose, and the bird appears to be perfectly aware of this. Indeed, its habit of trusting to its trick of treeing and remaining motionless has earned for it the name of "fool-grouse," which I believe should be applied only to young birds. These unquestionably will tree and foolishly main- tain their positions while their comrades are being shot or clubbed down, but the older birds, except in seldom disturbed localities, are wiser. But fool grouse or no, when once the bird con- cludes to start there is no more foolishness. With a nerve-shaking whirring it promptly gets to top speed, and usually darts downhill, a manoeuvre which greatly adds to the difficulty of the shot. When taking wing it cackles like a scared fowl. In spite of the bird's penchant for timber it frequently is found in the open and in grain fields. In such places the sportsman may enjoy " blue grouse " shooting as it should be, and sport of a very high order. Then the full strength and speed of the game becomes apparent, and the man who makes uniformly good scores has no reason to fear any ordinary company. I recall several truly delightful experiences, which, even to a gun The Dusky Grouse 151 "thoroughly broke" on ruffed grouse and quail in the heavy cover of the East, proved none too easy. The love-making of the male is marked by all the pomp and vanity of the strutting gobbler; indeed, in his actions he might pass for a turkey bantam, but he has one marked peculiarity. It is his habit to perch in some thick-growing tree, and by filling the sacs upon his neck with air and abruptly expelling it, to produce a low booming, which has an extraordinary carrying and ventrilo- quial power. This booming, or " booing," as some westerners term it, seldom fails to sorely puzzle a tenderfoot, the baffling feature of it being that it does not appear to gain volume or distinctness when the bird is closely approached. Even a vet- eran blue grouse hunter will hesitate over saying how far a booming grouse is distant. The male, while a valiant cavalier during the period of love-making, — May, or early in June, according to the elevation of the range, — does not trouble himself about the welfare of the young, which are carefully tended by the mother. The nest is a hollow scratched in the ground and partially lined with grass or other soft material. The number of eggs varies, seven or eight being the average. Occasionally, about twice the usual number are found, which would suggest the pos- sibility of their having been deposited by two 152 The Grouse Family hens. The color of the eggs varies from pale to a decided buff with darker spots. The most common site for the nest is alongside a log, but the birds exercise little art either in build- ing or concealing it. The period of incubation is about twenty-one days, the young running as soon as they are dry. They are prettily marked above with light and dark buff, the under parts light. Like the young of the ruffed grouse, they are adepts at hiding. When sufficiently grown to flutter to the lower branches of a tree, they adopt the treeing habit, and from that time on behave as do their elders. The dusky grouse feeds upon the foliage of cer- tain plants, berries, grasshoppers, and a variety of other insects, grain, grubs, and worms. During the period of deep snow, and snow is astonish- ingly deep in some of its haunts, it sustains itself upon the buds of conifers. THE SOOTY GROUSE (Z>. o. fuliginosus) Only an expert could distinguish this race of the preceding species. The plumage is several shades darker, but all important markings are about the same. It is found through the moun- tains from California to Alaska. The habits, nesting, young, and food resemble those of D. obscurus. The Canada Grouse 153 RICHARDSON'S GROUSE (Z?. o. richardsont) The chief difference between this race and D. obscurus is found in the tail, which in Richardson's grouse is square at the tip and lacking the con- spicuous gray band. It, too, is a mountain dweller, being found along the eastern slopes of the Rockies from central Montana northward through the moun- tain region of Canada, and has no peculiarities of habits to distinguish it from its near relatives. THE CANADA GROUSE (Canachites canadensis) Adult malt — Upper parts, gray, barred with black ; wings, lighter . gray mottled and barred with black, and brown tips ; scapulars, with central white streaks, widening at tips ;* under parts, black, with border of mixed black and white to the throat, many of the feathers tipped with white ; flanks, pale brown, with irregular, longitudinal black lines, and white streaks along the shafts, broadening at the tips; under tail-coverts, black, tipped with white ; upper tail-coverts, black, mottled with brown and tipped with gray. Bill, black. Total length, about 14^ inches ; wing, 7; tail, 5. Adult female — Upper parts, barred with gray, buff, and black, the gray most conspicuous on lower back and rump ; sides of breast and flanks, strongly tinged with buff; flank-feathers, with cen- tral streak of white, broadening at tips. Abdomen, black, feathers tipped with white; under tail-coverts, black, barred with buff, and tipped with white ; median tail-feathers, barred with buff and black ; remainder, black, with irregular, narrow, buffish lines and tipped with same color. No noticeable differ- ence in the size of the sexes. The downy young are yellow with dark markings above. A black line through the eye to the nape. 154 The Grouse Family An exceedingly pretty, but, from the sporting point of view, a practically useless bird. It is found throughout most of the forested regions of Canada, from the Atlantic to the eastern slopes of the Rockies, thence northward to the vicinity of Kadiak, Alaska ; and also through the north- ern portions of the northern tier of states to the Rockies. It prefers dense growths of spruce and fir, and swamps of tamarack. It is a hardy bird, but so gentle and confiding as to appear stupid. It is usually seen in small companies, as if one brood, and is common in the vicinity of the old portages and trails made by the lumberman and fur-trader. The writer has twice caught mature specimens with his bare hands, and it is a conu mon trick of woodsmen to decapitate a bird with a switch, or noose it with a bit of twine. Once the writer came precious near hooking one with a trout fly, at which the grouse had pecked. Only a dislike to needless cruelty, and a respect for a fine rod, saved this particular bird. Quite often the brood is met with in the trail, when they will sedately step aside about sufficiently far to make room for the intruder's boots, meanwhile regard- ing him with a laughable air of affectionate inter- est. No doubt this grouse could fly rapidly should it choose to exert its powers, but it is content with more leisurely movements. The flesh is very dark, and even when at its best is fit only for a hungry The Canada Grouse 155 man. In the winter it is bitter, and entirely un- worthy of a place upon the table. Some people claim to like it, but tastes are bound to differ. In my opinion this grouse should never be shot, but suffered to live out its gentle life in the grim old woods, to which its presence lends the touch of life too seldom seen. Its courtship presents some peculiarities which cannot fail to interest the intelligent spectator. The male struts as proudly as the grandest gob- bler of barnyard or forest; his red combs show erect and swollen, and he seems all puffed up with pride and passion. Suddenly he leaps into the air with wings whirring like electric fans, and for a moment or two hovers as though fixed to the spot, then slowly lowers himself. The sound of the wings when he is thus engaged may be heard at a considerable distance, but, like the whirring of the true pheasant, it is ventriloquial, and difficult to locate. The nest consists of a few leaves and light stuff arranged with little care, frequently in the shelter of a thick spruce. The number of eggs varies from eight to about a dozen. The ground color is buff, with irregular brownish marks. Only one brood is raised in a season. The young be- have like other youthful grouse, and the mother displays an obstinate devotion seldom equalled, bustling about one's feet, and almost attacking in her nervous anxiety to draw the peril toward herself. 156 The Grouse Family FRANKLIN'S GROUSE (C. franklini) The distinguishing marks of this species are the broad, white bars at the end of the upper tail- coverts. It is also a trifle larger than C. canaden- szs, which it otherwise closely resembles. Its range includes the Rocky Mountains from north- western Montana, through Oregon and Washing- ton and the Coast Range of British Columbia to Alaska. It prefers high elevations, usually be- tween five and ten thousand feet. In disposition it is even more fearless and confiding than its relative of the East. As an object of the sports- man's interest, it is absolutely without merit. THE PRAIRIE-HEN (Tympanuchus americanus) Adult male — Upper parts, brown, barred with black and buff; wing- feathers tipped with buff; a tuft of stiff, elongated feathers, capable of being elevated over the head on either side of the neck, black, with buff centres, frequently chestnut on inner webs; chin, throat, and cheeks, buff, the latter marked with dark brown spots ; a brown line from mouth, beneath the eye, to ear-coverts ; buff stripe from maxilla to and beyond the eye ; under parts, white, barred with brown ; flanks, barred with dark brown and buff; under tail-coverts, white, margined with brown and buff; tail, brown, tipped with white; large sacs of loose skin beneath the long neck-feathers. Total length, about 18 inches ; wing, 9 ; tail, 4^. The female is like the male, but a trifle smaller, and the neck-tufts are very short. She has no sacs on the neck. The downy young are light buff, with darker The Prairie-Hen 157 markings on head and upper parts. Range — Prairies of Mis- sissippi Valley from Manitoba to Ontario, Michigan, and Ohio, west to the Dakotas, Kansas, and Indian Territory, south to Louisiana and Texas. Of all the grouse family, this bird — the "chicken" of shooting lore — probably yields the most com- plete satisfaction to the great army of American sportsmen. Its greatest rival is the famed red bird of the moors over sea, but if the question of all-round merit were left to popular vote, beyond all doubt the " chicken " would poll an overwhelm- ing majority. Nor is this to be wondered at, for unquestionably it is the bird of the people. Were the cleverest sportsman who ever lived to undertake the designing of a bird of habitat and habits to suit the wishes of perhaps three- fourths of the gunners of this country, the result of his labor surely would be something very like a chicken. Let us glance at its qualifications : it is of good size, carrying plenty of wholesome and excellent meat ; its appearance is pleasing ; it is vigorous and prolific ; it is a useful friend to the farmer ; and it loves a region of pure air and pleasant sunshine, wherein an overworked man may find a cure-all for his mental worry and re- sultant ills ; its ranges may be reached in comfort and traversed with pleasure; it behaves well be- fore dogs ; it gives the gun a fair, open chance, seldom being found in anything like really diffi- 158 The Grouse Family cult cover; and, perhaps best of all, it offers a comparatively easy mark early in the season when the guns are apt to be out of form, with in- creasing difficulties as the season advances, when the guns should be doing better, while near the close of the season it will thoroughly test the skill and resourcefulness of the deadliest of the masters of the shotgun. Lives there another game bird of which as much may be truly said ? And this is not all, for the big, generous chicken goes even farther and extends an invitation to the lame, the halt, and — I came pretty near saying the blind ! Come to think of it, the chicken might welcome the blind — nay! even prefer them — but that doesn't matter. Lest these rather sweeping state- ments should be misunderstood, it is pardonable to explain that (providing what's left of him be all right) a one-armed, one-legged, or no-legged man may enjoy his chicken-shooting with the best of them. The western prairies have their fine shots who are maimed in all three ways, for the chicken may be shot from either the saddle, or any suitable wheeled conveyance, without any need for the gunner to move from his seat. Shoot- ing from the saddle is a method which is common in both West and South, but only the prairie in some form can offer reliable sport to the man on wheels. The prairie-hen, now inseparably associated The Prairie- Hen 159 with the country of magnificent open plains, was not always confined to its present ranges. There is no reason to doubt that it was once very abun- dant much farther east than its present limit, and it is more than probable that in the old days the birds favored tracts of open woodlands. Like the quail, the " chicken " follows the plough, which accounts for the gradual extension of its range westward, while the narrowing of the eastward limit is readily explained by the increased number of guns and other destructive agencies. In most of its present haunts the bird may be considered a resident, yet there is somewhat of a drifting movement southward from the extreme northern grounds, which occasionally amounts to what might be termed a partial migration. Strangely enough, this southward movement appears to be confined chiefly to the females, the great majority of the males sticking to their native ranges in spite of furious storms and arctic temperature. Few of those at all familiar with the prairies have failed to notice the love-making — the pecul- iar booming and ridiculous antics of the males of this species, which are so characteristic of the first few days of early spring. The low, booming sound carries far through the still gray atmos- phere of earliest dawn, and when, as usually hap- pens, a lot of old males have assembled upon some slightly rising ground, they make a row 160 The Grouse Family which would do credit to a host of gigantic bull- frogs. When I first heard this booming, it sorely puz- zled me. It was in western Ontario, on what is known as Raleigh plains — an extensive tract of low, marshy land, lying for miles along the south bank of the Thames River. During early spring this tract was flooded with the exception of a limited central area of less than one hundred acres in extent. Spring shooting of geese, duck, and snipe was then both legal and amazingly good, guns were comparatively few, and the plains formed something very like an earthly Eden for those sufficiently game to face astounding mud and ice-cold water. To get out before gray dawn, to occupy some trifling "hide," and there await the morning flight of waterfowl, was the proper caper. This frequently was wet, dirty work, but the shooting was grand, so discomfort was cheer- fully endured. Just before sunrise, from the higher part of the plains there invariably came a mysteri- ous sound — " Boo-rum-roo-boo-rum-roo " often re- peated. I had then never seen a live prairie-hen, nor had the older local gunners, and the booming sound troubled me much. It was easily imitated, and one day I spoke of it to three red-faced old rascals of the genuine old sporting school. " What's it like ? " growled one, who hated troublesome boys as he hated his Satanic majesty. The Prairie-Hen 161 The unfortunate writer voiced a good imitation of the strange sound. " Why, you d d young fool — that's a bull- frog! " roared the old cock, making a wrathful pass with his cane. But the writer was agile, and he fled abashed. The next time he heard the sound, he deliberately forfeited all chance for waterfowl by wading directly across the marsh through water and mud frequently up to his waist. The sound led him on and on, until at last he descried a large fowl-like bird upon a knoll, and traced the sound to it. When the bird flushed, he didn't know what it was, so he shot at it, and greatly to his regret it proved to be a fine male pinnated grouse, or prairie-hen. He stuffed the bird, and it is still in his posses- sion, and although he has since killed hundreds — perhaps thousands might be nearer the mark — he has yet to see a finer specimen. Later developments proved the old male to have had company, to be exact, upon the plains in question, and upon another similar expanse a few miles away, there were years later as many as seventy- five or one hundred " chickens." Possibly a few of their descendants still survive. But to see the chicken at home, one should go to the Dakotas, Minnesota, or Manitoba, or one of the good western grounds. The observer, who should be equipped with a powerful glass, may 1 62 The Grouse Family there study birds at his leisure, and learn much of their curious ways during the love-making sea- son. Then the old males are full of fire, and their booming comes to the ear like the mufHed lowing of distant herds of cattle. Through the glass one can follow every move of the assembled males, note the absurd posturing of love's minuet, the frenzied strutting, and the often furious fight- ing. The male has upon either side of his neck a yellow sac, which roughly resembles the half of an orange. These he can inflate to an enormous size, and collapse them at will, and during the emptying of these sacs is produced the booming sound. While strutting the bird presents an extraordinary appearance. The sacs are inflated until they suggest the rubber bladder toy of the children ; the bird's head almost disappears be- tween them, while their tremendous enlargement forces forward the long winglike feathers of the neck until they project above the head almost to the point of meeting. With the sacs fully in- flated, the neck appears to be as large as the body, while the hornlike projected feathers lend an uncanny effect which, to say the least, is start- ling, if not rather devilish. The short tail, fully spread, is raised fanlike above the back, while the wings are lowered like those of a strutting gobbler until the primaries scrape the ground. The strut- ting is, of course, intended to impress the onlook- The Prairie- Hen 163 ing females with the idea that each male is a devil of a fellow, and a most desirable parti. The various movements embrace a series of pos- turings varied with abrupt, short rushes this way and that. Every now and then a male lowers his head and expels the air from his sacs, and the booming sound speeds over the great grassy sea, as the voice of white-maned breakers comes from the distant reef. I have lain watching and listen- ing while one hundred or more were thus en- gaged, and the experience was well worth the trouble of beating the sun across the grass. The grand concert is always about sunrise, but scat- tered birds may be heard at any time during the day. The big musterings are continued each morn- ing for about a week, and toward the end the man with the glass may enjoy a surfeit of impromptu fights, for the jealous males mill it right merrily as though they considered their meeting-place an exaggerated cockpit. They fight with feet, wings, and bills ; pecking savagely, hanging on, and leap- ing and striking somewhat after the manner of their remote kin — the wearers of the deadly gaffs. When one feels that he has been suffi- ciently mauled, he " flies the pit," and unless he has luck in running across some lone maid, or some mated male who either is a poor fighter or will submit to a bluff, he wins no mate that sea- 1 64 The Grouse Family son. These lone males are termed by the plains- men "old solitaries," and they are apt to prove wary and afford long-range single chances when the shooting season comes. It is to be hoped that they " get into the game again " the following spring, but naturally this is a difficult matter to prove, with the probabilities in favor of another attempt. Once mated, the pairs scatter far and wide, nesting wherever they find suitable sites, such as a thick clump of grass or weeds. The nest is merely a slight depression lined with grass and a few feathers. The eggs vary considerably both in ground, color, and markings, the usual type being pale brown freckled with reddish brown. They are hatched in about twenty-five days, the period of incubation being irregular, perhaps slightly influenced by the weather. The number of eggs varies greatly, as many as twenty having been found, although the average would appear to be about a dozen. Should a nest be destroyed, especially before the completion of the laying, the hen will build anew and proceed to business. In such cases the number of eggs is apt to be some- what below the average. So soon as the hen begins to brood, the male takes himself off, as though " the subsequent proceedings interested him no more." The young run as soon as they are dry, and the The Prairie- Hen 165 nest has no further attraction for them, the mother covering them wherever the close of the day finds them; but as they are given to hanging about some spot where food is abundant, they may be found for days in succession on this favorite ground. The hen is an excellent mother, giving warning at the first sign of danger and feigning lameness to attract the intruder to herself. The wee chicks are swift of foot and clever at hiding, and the discovery of them in the open by no means implies the capture of even one. The first food of the chicks is insects of various kinds, the main course being grasshoppers. In this purely insectivorous stage the birds perform a distinct service the value of which must be considerable. Later on, the diet is varied with seeds, berries, and grain, wherever the latter is to be had. By the middle of August, in average seasons, the young look large when they flush, but they are still soft and comparatively weak of wing. By the first of September, however, the majority of them are strong enough to afford the best of shooting, and they are then extremely good eat- ing. The flesh is then white, but it darkens as the bird ages. A peculiarity of it is that it does not improve with hanging. Experienced chicken shooters know this, and they never hesitate over eating a bird within a few hours of its death. Upon rising the chicken clucks gruffly and speeds 1 66 The Grouse Family away, usually in a straight line a few feet above the grass. The flush is accompanied by a vigor- ous whirring, the flight being marked by periods of rapid wing-beats alternating with gliding upon set pinions, not unlike the flight of the meadow- lark. Early in the season the birds lie like stones, frequently in thick cover, waiting until almost trodden upon. The flush almost invariably is straggling, the birds getting up singly, and by twos and threes. The old hand knows this, and with an ejector gun and nimble fingers he fre- quently bags half a dozen in swift succession to the one point. Now and then an unusually quick man will bag an entire brood without leaving his tracks. This is the feat of chicken-shooting, and I never will forget one glorious day when, before the keen eyes of a remorseless critic and now fa- mous writer, I dropped eleven singles and doubles, nor his frenzied roar of, " Kill her, you ! " when the old hen, true to habit, flushed last and was luck- ily dropped full fifty yards away. That little inci- dent was the beginning of a friendship which is worth more than all the game in North America, but it is now an old story. Upon another occasion, in South Dakota, I was shooting in company with a quite celebrated trap- shot — peace be to his ashes! He wanted one hundred chickens to send East for some special purpose, and he declared that he would work the Tbe Prairie- Hen 167 dogs while the other fellow did the shooting. It was just at the prime of the season and birds were plentiful. The first day's bag was a heavy one, the second nearly as good, the third some- what lighter, eleven chickens being required to complete the hundred. This was an easy task for the morning, so preparations were made for breaking camp. " Never mind about shells, there's lots in the rig," he remarked, as we prepared to start. The dogs sailed away and soon found game, which flushed in the usual straggling fashion, and paid the usual penalty. A second lot was located and it yielded three. Finally the dogs pulled up beside a big strip of rank grass. " How many shells you got left ? " queried the driver. " Two in the gun and — one in the pocket," was the reply after a feel. " Good — kill out," was the gruff rejoinder. It was a simple task, for the birds had almost to be kicked out of the grass. As the third fell, to my amazement there was a roar from the buck- board, and what felt like a drunken gorilla fell upon me and bore me, face downward, into the grass, where I was mauled, as it was put, " Good and plenty." The cause of the asylum-suggestive demonstration proved to be the somewhat start- ling fact that the driver had been keeping tabs on the shells, and for the several trips the birds and 1 68 The Grouse Family shells tallied. It was an extraordinary performance, which, needless to say, that gun has never dupli- cated either upon chickens or any other game. That was chicken-shooting with everything in the gun's favor, but it did not represent the best of the sport, which can only be enjoyed during those occasional warm, windless, sleepy spells which come later, and which are so strongly suggestive of the genuine Indian summer of the East. Then the fully matured birds lie like dead things, but rise swift and strong and go whizzing away on what surely will prove very long flights unless the lead prevents. Then is the time when a man can perhaps kill his twenty odd in succession, yet feel that every kill is an individual triumph of manly skill, for the range with a quick man must needs be short, and the work clean, be it hit or miss. Quite often birds will lie closer than is desirable. In such cases an imitation of the sound of the whirring flush is apt to start near-lying individuals. The sound of the voice also startles them, hence, when a nice lot of birds are down in good cover, it is well to avoid speaking to dog or comrades. Where the country comprises a mingling of cover and small prairies, as in some of the best parts of Wisconsin, the chickens after the first flush make for the wooded or brushy hillsides which are almost invariably within easy flight. Much of the timber of these hillsides is small The Prairie- Hen 169 oak, and the general appearance is parklike. On such ground the shooting is excellent, there being just enough trees to keep a man keen and careful. Many other places present a snarl of low scrub- oak and hazels, seldom more than waist-high. In such cover the chickens lie like quail, and a good shot can walk them up singly and drop bird after bird till his coat can hold no more — then hey ! for the following wagon, to deposit therein the slain, and to resume the beat till the coat is again too heavy for comfort. Days on these small Wisconsin prairies leave enduring memories. It is quite true that the number of birds and the possible bags could never rival the possibilities of the mighty grass- lands farther west, yet a gun could stop from a dozen to three times that number of birds during a day of hard work, and could a sportsman desire more ? Your true sportsman is an artist, not a butcher ; and amid the billowy hills of Wisconsin he may feast his eyes upon a grand succession of vistas, steeps of purpling oaks, ravines of golden poplars, and sweet intervales of snug homes lying amid well-tended fields, which delightfully serve to sharpen the wild beauty of the background, which remains as it has ever been. And they will not all be chickens, those birds which Nimrod lovingly smooths and counts at nightfall, when the tang gets into the air and the 1 70 The Grouse Family crimson pales behind the dusky hills. The ruffed grouse whirls the painted leaves as his swift fans thrill the silence; small Bob, too, rouses mimic thunders as he rips the dappled sun- shine with tiny might ; and now and then, e'en to this day, a swift gray arrow cleaves the still, sweet air and strikes its target of glowing foliage. The thought that this lone arrow may be the last of all those myriad flights which once assailed these lichened keeps and vine-hung battlements, should quench the war-spark in the eye and slacken the ready finger just in time, for the pigeon is too rare for one to be destroyed. The great plains, while lacking the beauty of foliage and picturesque irregularities of Wiscon- sin, yet possess a charm peculiarly their own — a breadth and power, somewhat like that of the ocean, which gives a sense of freedom and daring to whoever trails far out and sees the dim blue of distant forests rimming like fading shores the huge, halted billows of grass. To camp night after night amid sweet grass, to trail day after day over a silent expanse, where nature never sounds a discordant note, to toil until weary of a fascinating task, to eat when hungry, and to sleep till thoroughly rested and refreshed, is no bad medicine for a man whose nerves may have been racked by the ceaseless throb and jar of some busy city. And there is another, which to many The Prairie- Hen 171 is by far the more attractive way, viz., to secure a properly appointed car and have it side-tracked somewhere where the game is abundant, and, with the car as a home upon wheels, to shoot in every direction until a change may be desired and the car be hauled to the chosen point. This is the wiser plan for the latter part of the season, for the car is better than any temporary camp can possibly be made. With it, a party of good fellows may have a royal time without for- feiting one of those creature comforts which, after all has been said, are not characteristic of camps, yet which go so far toward impressing a man with the idea that life really is worth living. Given such an outfit, and with birds wilder and stronger of wing, as they are bound to prove as the season advances, and the man who cannot enjoy himself probably is one of those fellows who would come out nights and " kick " because his grave wasn't properly aired and lighted, or who would want to go right back because the celestial pavement wasn't built of the particular brand of gold brick which he had handled in Jersey. As the end of the season approaches, some- times earlier, if an unseasonable chilly period arrives, the scattered broods unite and form packs, which frequently contain hundreds of birds. They are then entirely too wild to be 172 The Grouse Family depended upon for sport with the gun, although an occasional warm spell may cause a good day. A pack will seldom allow a man to approach within anything like shotgun range, and, if flushed, it rises with an astounding roar of wings and streams away at an electric clip for perhaps a mile, or more. To follow is well-nigh useless, for the birds will not lie, and the pursuer may rest assured that a lot of keen eyes are following his every movement. Under such conditions it is possible to have a bit of sport with a rifle of medium calibre, and this is not to be despised by the energetic man who craves a hard, health- giving tramp and who can content himself with a brace or so of birds. Quite often it is possible to get fair chances at from fifty to seventy-five yards, when the man possessed of that rare gift — the power to correctly estimate distance on the plains — and the skill to put his lead where he wants it, may kill enough birds to keep his interest from waning. The best dog for chicken-shooting is the best dog for any form of upland shooting, i.e. a thor- oughly broken pointer or setter. Both breeds have stanch admirers, who do not hesitate to claim a marked superiority for their favorite. In my opinion, and I have had much to do with both dogs, there is no perceptible difference in the quality of the actual field work. To any one but Tbe Prairie-Hen 173 a pronounced advocate of the pointer, the setter is a far handsomer and frequently a more intelli- gent animal, which, as a rule, makes it the more desirable companion, especially during the close season. My preference is for the pointer, be- cause of his more uniform steadiness upon scant work, and his ability to stand hard work dur- ing warm weather without continually requiring water. This upon the plains is no unimportant matter, for in many sections good water in abun- dance is not readily obtainable, which means that wise men will carry a full keg lashed to the rig wherever they go. The chief disadvantage of the pointer is that he rarely has sufficient coat to properly protect his hide from the sharp, coarse grass, while his almost hairless feet are liable to injury from continuous work in stiff, new-cut stubble. In point of fact the weakness of one dog is the strength of the other ; hence, the set- ter, being the better protected all round, can better stand the wear and tear, while his rival, owing to his lack of protective coat, is less liable to overheating and its continuous thirst. Under reasonably fair conditions, the dogs are equal in speed, range, nose, staying powers and "bird- sense." Be the dog of either breed, to win renown upon the prairie he needs must be a free, wide, fast ranger and a determined worker, not afraid to 174 The Grouse Family go a mile, if need require, from his handler, and sufficiently stanch to hold his point without a waver, although many minutes should elapse before reinforcements arrive. A dog of fine nose and intelligence, if possessed of the other qualifications, is a treasure beyond price. The trouble with eastern-broken dogs when they first attempt prairie work is that the ground is too vast for them. Unaccustomed as they are to an apparently limitless scope of novel cover with never a fence or bit of brush to catch their eye and draw them on, they are apt to at first feel somewhat dazed by the seemingly hopeless pros- pect before them. Nor is this to be wondered at, for not seldom the man, too, feels how small is the chance of striking the right spot in all that sea of space. But a good dog is good anywhere, and presently, after he has enjoyed his initial whiff of the rich new scent, he will go striding away at that regular, determined, all-day-got-to-find-'em-at- last gait which is the hall-mark of a good one broken on the plains. The deadliest foes of the prairie-hen, ranked in order of destructiveness, are: man, as sports- man, lighter of fires, farmer, and as trapper ; the weather, as snow, cold, and rain ; the beasts and birds of prey — wolves, foxes, skunks, and hawks and snakes. Dismissing the ravages by weather, of which excessive rain, by reason of its flooding THE PRAIRIE CHICKEN (Pinnated Grouse) The Prairie-Hen the nests and killing the young, causes by far the greatest damage, man is responsible for the really heavy mortality. If all the chickens which annu- ally fall victims to the legitimate use of the gun could be piled in one heap, the mountain of meat would be quite large enough to make most people gasp in amazement. Yet so productive are the birds, and so broad their yet available ranges, that with rational game laws, rigidly enforced, the sport they afford might be indefinitely prolonged. Unfortunately, too many men are slow to under- stand the necessity for only killing in reason and in season. In far too many instances the man who abides by the law and fares forth upon the first lawful day finds that some sneaking ruffian has been over the ground in advance of the legiti- mate hour. Nor must it be imagined that only the needy poacher or the merciless market hunter is to blame. To their shame be it said that a host of well-to-do and apparently respectable citi- zens appear to look upon a game law as though they imagined it to be a sort of legal sieve, ex- pressly designed for something to be strained through it. Just why some men, who perhaps would spend their last blood in resenting an open attack upon their honor, can sink to the level of a sneak thief when it comes to a question of obeying a game law, I am unable to fathom. They can well afford to wait, they cannot truth- The Prairie- Hen the nests and killing the young, causes by far the greatest damage, man is responsible for the really heavy mortality. If all the chickens which annu- ally fall victims to the legitimate use of the gun could be piled in one heap, the mountain of meat would be quite large enough to make most people gasp in amazement. Yet so productive are the birds, and so broad their yet available ranges, that with rational game laws, rigidly enforced, the sport they afford might be indefinitely prolonged. Unfortunately, too many men are slow to under- stand the necessity for only killing in reason and in season. In far too many instances the man who abides by the law and fares forth upon the first lawful day finds that some sneaking ruffian has been over the ground in advance of the legiti- mate hour. Nor must it be imagined that only the needy poacher or the merciless market hunter is to blame. To their shame be it said that a host of well-to-do and apparently respectable citi- zens appear to look upon a game law as though they imagined it to be a sort of legal sieve, ex- pressly designed for something to be strained through it. Just why some men, who perhaps would spend their last blood in resenting an open attack upon their honor, can sink to the level of a sneak thief when it comes to a question of obeying a game law, I am unable to fathom. They can well afford to wait, they cannot truth- The Grouse Family fully plead either ignorance or necessity, yet when the test comes they are as rotten as the stinking birds which foul their lawless trail, for they never durst take home their game. It is my misfortune to have met some of these men, to have heard their smug boastings of how in their small rascality they evaded this game warden, or tipped (bribed is the proper word) that one ; and the boasters never appeared to realize how truly their own testimony damned them in the opinion of sportsmen of the True Blue Lodge, which, like that other great Lodge, sternly holds each brother to the leal, the fair, and the clean. Perhaps better things are coming. Peradventure a broader reali- zation of what constitutes true sportsmanship may yet eradicate that disease known as illegal shoot- ing. 'Twill be better so ! I have seen that dis- ease break out within the supposed to be sacred circles of Drug and Bench and Bar and Pen and Sword — yea! even in the Church — and I have marvelled at the mote detectors who saw not the beam they bore. The prairie fires are mainly due to the bucolic custom of firing the grass in the spring. Other fires are caused by sparks from engines, and a few by sheer carelessness on the part of some smoker or rubbish burner. So far as the farm- ers are concerned, they might better burn their grass in the fall and avoid spoiling eggs. In A Match at Chickens 177 these days, with men ready to pay well for good shooting, a wise farmer can make his chicken crop quite a profitable item — certainly one well worth taking care of. If grass has to be burnt, it should be late in the fall. This means a better growth next season and without any particular damage. The other fires come under the head of accidents which will continue as long as mortals remain careless and engines are allowed to belch forth sparks. In regard to trapping, little need be said. Vigor- ous, efficient game wardens will in time suppress much of it. In any event the writer has not the slightest intention of taking the chances of spread- ing possibly pernicious literature, by describing in detail the several forms of traps which he has found and kicked to flinders, or otherwise put out of commission. The other foes, furred, feathered, and scaled, will meet their end as settlement increases. A MATCH AT CHICKENS My second visit to the western club which had kindly extended the guest's privilege was productive of a big surprise. The colonel was in the library, and, as usual, was surrounded by a half-dozen grinning members, for the colonel was a character, and when he opened his mouth there were liberated words of huge wisdom and exceeding joy. 178 The Grouse Family " There he is now ! " exclaimed somebody, whereupon the colonel at once rose and, looking very wise, signed for me to follow him into a private room. He tapped the table, muttered " Sit down," and then took his stand directly in front. He was good to look at, the colonel was. Full six feet three, and powerfully built, he carried himself with that military back which some old warriors never lose. His long, snow- white hair, mustache, and imperial suggested the South, which was his home, while the keen black eyes and clean-cut, extraordinarily handsome fea- tures stamped him as one of F.F.V.'s. Nor did his appearance belie him, for the colonel was one of the genuine old fire-eating, high-bred lot " I've matched you, suh," he began, in a deep voice, " to shoot against young M in the field, any game recognized as such to count. It's to be a fa-ah, squa-ah, gentlemanly contest, and the best man is to win. Have I done right, suh ? — I couldn't send you word." " But, Colonel, — "I began, then hesitated, for his bronzed face was perceptibly flushing and the snowy mustache was beginning to bristle in an extraordinary manner. "Well, suh? — Do you desiah to — to — back out?" Something in the slight emphasis upon the final words was pregnant with unpleasant possi- A Match at Chickens 179 bilities, so the only thing left was to mutter some- thing about every gentleman being entitled to a run for his money, and to assume a cheerfulness not caused by a chunk of ice down one's spine. " Then it's a go — shake ! " exclaimed the colonel, and he added, with truly majestic impres- siveness : " By suh ! we'll win ! I have never yet made a match of my own seeking and lost, suh! It's only a dinnah for six gentlemen and a trifling side bit, but we'll win it. We'll show them that an Englishman is game off his own dunghill." The crafty old devil slewed an eye round to see how the deliberately intended prod operated, then he smiled like the white-headed old reprobate he was. Some needful discussion followed, and suf- fice it to say that an early start the following morning was agreed upon. " How you gunned ? " he finally inquired, and I assured him that the gun was all right, which was true. " Go get it — I always attend to detail, suh," he concluded. When the case was opened and the gun put together and passed round for inspection, I could almost have laughed. The other party to the wager almost snatched at it, and it did not require his sly wink to a friend, or his ill-concealed satis- faction as he politely returned the gun, to tell that i8o Tbe Grouse Family he had fallen into a grievous error. Not so the colonel. He looked long and earnestly at the flawless finish, tried one lock close to his ear, glanced through the gleaming tubes, then laid it down without a word of comment. But there was the faintest of quivers of one eyelid which spoke volumes. And well might he be pleased, for never in his life had he fingered the like of that beautiful seven-pound arm, my one serious extravagance and the finest thing of the kind which a world- famous maker could build. "We'll out-gun 'em fo' shuah," he said, then hastily added, " Hello ! here comes your rival." The introduction and totally unnecessary ex- planations followed, and, after the manner of men, we looked each other over. There is a certain mesmeric, or other influence in a cool, deliberate scrutiny, and the other fellow assuredly got all that was coming to him, for the writer was not ignorant of match-making. The rival was a tall, slender, handsome young fellow, straight as a rush. " West Point, Mr. M ? " I ventured, after a moment. " Hardly that— yet? he retorted, and a flicker of something very like a faint sneer for an instant played about his mouth. He examined the gun, and again the mouth told the same story, although outwardly he was the perfection of good breeding. A Match at Chickens 181 " You're a bit overfond of yourself, my bold Bucko," was my inward comment. Somehow, after chatting for an hour or so among pleasant company, the match did not appear hopeless, although the talk proved that young M was considered a tearing fine shot. Just what he thought about it, of course, was un- fathomable, but his jauntiness did seem to have a certain forced air. In fact, the man did not ring true. " Come, time to turn in," at last said the colonel, and we walked away together. Then for half an hour I listened to the counsel of a man who could outgamble and outbluff all his friends ; who was a master at most games of hazard, and who thoroughly understood how to get the last ounce out of any man he stood behind. " Mark my words, suh," he concluded, " I know the man. Well ahead, he's a wondah ; even, he's only ordi- nary; and once behind, he's beat. Give it to him from the start, and keep on giving it to him. No matter if you're behind, keep after him, and remember he's liable to come back to you any minute. We've got him beat as sure as sunrise. Now go get your sleep, and don't you worry. Leave it to me, suh." Promptly on time the wagon drove up, the colonel tooling a pair of grand blacks. In the rear seat sat M and his friend, and between 1 82 The Grouse Family their feet was a fine Irish setter. In front was the colonel, chipper as a boy, and beside him a mag- nificent heavy pointer. The keen eyes gave me one searching glance, then gleamed with satisfac- tion, for sleep had been what it should be, and he at once recognized the fact. In a moment we were off, and within an hour we had reached the first ground, a series of vast natural pastures with brushy hills beyond. The dogs were started, and as they raced away, the colonel said : — " Gentlemen, you are to shoot in turn and to order. When I say ' Go,' the gentleman whose turn it happens to be must either protest there and then, or take what flushes, providing it be a game bird within a reasonable distance. There will be no appeal after either gentleman has fired his gun. Mr. M , your friend has won the toss, and he wants first shot. You will use both barrels if you see fit ; a bad shell will be ' no bird,' and a fair bird allowed to go unshot at will be 1 lost.' Do you understand, gentlemen ? " We signified that we thoroughly understood, and the team followed the dogs, which were tack- ing far away. It soon developed that the dogs were having a private match of their own. The red fellow, lean and hard and devil-may-care, like the true Hibernian he was, kept shaking out links until he got to racing speed — and such speed! On and on he flew, cutting out his A Match at Chickens 183 ground with a beautiful precision which spoke eloquently of careful breaking and regular work. But fast and game as he was, he had a worthy rival. The big pointer — white as marble with the brand of the old blood, a lemon head — matched him stride for stride, going with a snap and dash which augured ill for any dog at the close of a day. At length the white dog swerved from a cross- wind tack and went bounding up-wind for per- haps one hundred yards. Then his gallop slowed to a trot, the trot to a walk, and with head and tail raised high above the line of his back, he grandly drifted to his anchorage. Big and white, he loomed large above the grass — a glorious image of steadfast purpose, which might well have been carved from rarest marble by some master hand of old. Presently the red fellow swung about, and, instantly - grasping the situation, stopped almost in a stride. He too might have passed for some graven image, were it not that the breeze rippled the silken feather of his quiver- ing stern. " Out with you, gentleman. You're first, Mr. M- " said the colonel, as we descended. In a moment the " twelve " was snapped together, but M seemed to have a trifle of trouble. He muttered something to his friend, dropped a shell, picked it up, and showed a slightly heightened 1 84 Tbe Grouse Family color. The colonel solemnly winked a wicked eye, but made no comment, so we marched toward the pointer, the team walking close behind. M carried his gun over his shoulder with the guard upward, his hand clenched on the grip. It was a big ten-gauge, and by the finish of it an expensive arm, and by a famous American firm. To be candid, the combination looked decidedly formidable. The method of carrying, while a common one among chicken shooters, was to me a novelty, and I wondered what sort of a wrist the man had who would whirl such a gun to the firing position. Subsequent experience proved the trick to be very easy, but it has the decidedly bad tendency to make a man undershoot a swiftly rising bird. Somewhat to my surprise, M stopped when within a couple of yards of the dog, and set him- self as a man will when at score. Glancing ahead, I saw a small upright object which looked exactly like a striped gopher erect upon his haunches. Presently another and another defined themselves among the grass, and I realized that a number of chickens were squatting within a zone of about twenty yards. " Burr-urr ! " up went a thing as big as a hen, but it sped away at a very fair rate. Instantly M 's gun was levelled, but instead of the ex- pected prompt report, he held on and on, till it A Match at Chickens 185 seemed he never would shoot At last the big gun roared, the chicken went down like a wet rag, and I also " tumbled " to something ! This man understood the game, he knew he had a hard- shooting gun, and he had faced the traps. Still, his method lacked finish, and all things consid- ered there was nothing very alarming about the performance, for it really seemed as though a clever sprinter might have broken shot and caught the fowl. Appearances, however, are deceptive. " Go ! " said an unmistakable voice, and at the sound of it there was a roar of wings and half a dozen birds flushed. Two bore to the right, and to cut the head off the first and repeat on the slow follower was easy enough. " Good boy ! well done, suh ! " exclaimed the colonel, then we gathered the birds and handed them over. M 's was fairly well peppered, while one of the others was minus the head and most of the neck. The colonel grunted at the sight and looked earnestly at me, but I could make nothing of his expression. Again we moved on, and to make short a long story, we were fairly settled down to work with the kills even at nine straight. Three more of mine were headless, and as we went to another point, I heard the colonel say — " Wish he'd hit one squarely, I'd dearly like to see what the little gun can do." 1 86 The Grouse Family Still I failed to divine his drift, but the next chicken brought light. The shot was a square, crossing chance and, to my amazement, the slow bird flew straight ahead — clean missed ! In- stantly I knew the gun had been too far ahead, and then there came the proper translation of the colonel's remark — he had been fearful of just what had happened, and he had tried to convey as much to me without going beyond what he considered the limit of strict fairness. I stole a glance at him and saw that his face was very, red, and that the white mustache was bristling in a marvellous fashion. M killed his next bird, which placed him one ahead, and there was no mistaking his sneering expression as he glanced at his friend. On the instant came the remembrance of the colonel's warning against allowing him to get the lead, and I realized that the match might possi- bly be lost through a bit of sheer folly. There and then came the grim' resolve to let daylight in abundance through every succeeding fowl that offered. The next one got it squarely in the back at about twenty-five yards and the works of it flew to the four winds of heaven. The next was mashed to a pulp, and the next would hardly hold together. " That's the right way to kill chickens — meat don't count in a match ! " re- marked the colonel, and from then on I under- A Match at Chickens 187 stood. But M had got his saving lead, he felt he was a winner, and shot accordingly. As the thing progressed, the strain of it in- creased, and finally M missed. Here was a chance ; but, alas ! only a few feathers answered the small gun's appeal, and the score remained as it had been. By this time the prairie had been thoroughly worked, so it was agreed to go to an- other about a mile away. Barring the path thither lay a long slope of scrub, and near its foot was what looked like a wall of tall thicket; beyond that a broad stubble. The colonel cracked his whip, a thing he was seldom known to do, and the spirited team sped away like wild horses. "I say, Colonel!" exclaimed M 's friend, " hadn't we better keep up to the ridge ? It's all clear up there ; " and there was a decided tone of anxiety in his voice. " Not worth while turning now ; why didn't you speak back yonder ? " responded the colonel, who seemed to have all he could do to hold his nags. Verily, the colonel knew what he was about ! Near the thicket the team steadied, and we saw the dogs busy over some ground-scent. " Whoa ! " said the colonel. " Hadn't we better move on ? " said M and his friend in one breath. " There's lots of birds up- "There's a point — - steady, you!" roared the 1 88 The Grouse Family colonel, and we saw the white dog fixed and the red fellow drawing to him. " H 1 ! " said M 's friend under his breath. " Your shot, suh ! " said the colonel, bowing to me, and again an eyelid quivered. As I neared the dogs I wondered, for it was not a likely spot for chickens. The explanation was sudden. " Birr-birr-birr ! " Not chickens, but thirty-odd quail stormed up out of the grass, and in an instant I was at home. To a man trained in the hottest corner of western Ontario, where the timber is heavy, this cover seemed but a trifle, and I felt like Wellington did when he heard Bliicher's guns. A brace of birds fell, were retrieved, and the dogs ordered on. " I say, Colonel," remarked M 's friend, crisply, "let's get out of this wretched stuff, the match is at chickens, you know ! " The colonel stopped the team, turned about slowly, looked steadily at each of us in turn, and gravely asked, " The match — is — at — what — suh?" " At chickens ; that is, as / understand it," replied M 's friend, somewhat confusedly. " Mr. M , did you so understand it ? " asked the colonel, very slowly. "I — well — no-o-o ! But this is miserable ground. I'm sure Mr. S don't fancy it. Like to see him have a clean, fair chance, you A Match at Chickens 189 know," responded M , looking extremely un- easy. " Mr. S , what do you say, are you afraid of a trifle of cover ? " continued the arch villain. " Me, why, no ! Anything will suit me," I replied sweetly; for at that instant I saw the white dog stiffen, and I winked a warning. The colonel's turning about was a masterpiece of acting, for he really was in a deuce of a fidget. Slowly he settled in his seat ; slowly his keen eye roved along the edge of the thicket, till he saw the white cause of my wink. Too clever by far even then to make a mistake, he remarked : — " Well, gentlemen, as Mr. S has no objec- tion, we'll go to the grass again. Very handsome of him, I'm shu-ah, as by rights Mr. M should have at least two tries at quail. However — " He actually had made a bluff at turning the team, when I sung out, " Look yonder ! Is that dog pointing ? " " Point, gentlemen ! Your turn, Mr. M " quoth the colonel, with an air. Poor M ! He didn't fancy it and his face clearly showed it, while his friend looked black as thunder. Down he went to his doom. There was no time for holding on ; the birds whizzed for cover, and he had to hurry. Result — as clean a miss as man could make. " Point ! One more to even things, Mr. M ," 190 The Grouse Family said the colonel, looking as solemn as a red-faced owl. Once more poor M failed ; he had no heart for the task, and a dainty brown hen whirred to safety. "Now, gentlemen, for the open," said the colonel, and he shook up his team as though his sole anxiety was to find the biggest, laziest grouse in the state. He was anxious, too, for there is nothing like getting a short-tempered man to try to do something when he's hot. " Point ! Yours, Mr. S ," he sung out half an hour later, and that particular chicken might have served as the title-deed to a lead mine. Up sprang another, and it flew into four bits. " Go ! " said he to M , who promptly went — to pieces ! Never was seen a worse case of genuine quit, and suffice it to say, after three perfectly inex- cusable misses, he turned to me and said, "I — I — give it up. I'm not feeling very well." At the club. The colonel, if possible, more suave and debonair than usual. " Yes, suh, &? 51* 75> 9°- Sand-hill crane, 360. Turkey-calling, 273-277. Valley-quail of California, 379- 380. Canachites canadensis — Canada grouse, 107, 153-155. Canachites franklini — Franklin's grouse, 107, 156. Canada — Ptarmigan-shooting, 229-240. [See also Ontario, etc.] Canada grouse \_Canachites can- adensis] 107, 153-155. Canadian ruffed grouse \_B. u. to- gata] 107, 144-145. Capercailzie, American rivals, etc., 346-347. Cascade Mountains, ruffed grouse, 404, 407. Cats — Quail destroyers, 72. Quail-shooting anecdote, 79. Centrocercus urophasianus — sage- grouse, 107, 210. [See Sage-grouse.] Charadrius dominicus — golden plover, 330. [See Golden plover.] Chestnut-bellied scaled partridge [C. s. castaneigastra'} 5, 91, 96. Chickens, see Prairie-hen. Chinese pheasants importations, 347- 349- Coast Range — Dusky grouse, 413, 414. Mountain-quail, 391. Ruffed grouse, 404. Cold — enemy of the quail, 69-71. Colin. o. fuliginosus] 107, 152. South Dakota, prairie-hen shooting, 166-168. Sportsmen — British sportsmen, 351-352. Costume — Gambel's partridge sport, 398. Quail-shooting, 30. Eagerness to make the heaviest bag — grouse anecdote, 63. Farmers' relationship to, 55-61. Nervousness, 41-42. Outfit, 30. [See also Shooting.] Squirrel — foe of dove, 370-374. Stalking — Bartram's sandpiper, 328. Ruffed grouse, 112, 120-126. Whooping crane, 354. Tehichipi, dusky grouse range, 411. Tetraonidce — partridge family, I. 428 Index Tetraonina — grouse family, 107. Texan Bob-white \_C. v. texanus] i, 4, 87. Texas — Bartram's sandpiper range, 324- Thickets — quail-shooting, 52. Townsend's ptarmigan [Z. r. town- sendi\ 1 08, 247. Tracking turkeys$ 277-293. Trapping chickens, 177. Trapping turkeys, 253-255. Treeing habits of upland game — Dusky grouse, 148, 150, 152. Ruffed grouse, 118-123. Turkey — Elliot's Rio Grande turkey, 299. Emblem for U.S., proposal, 250- 251. Florida wild turkey, 298-299. Mexican turkey, see that title. Strutting gobbler, inflated feeling of, 112. Wild turkey, see that title. Turner's ptarmigan [Z. r. atkensis] 1 08, 247. Tympanuchus americanus — prairie- hen, 107, 156. [See Prairie-hen.] Tympanuchus americanus attwateri — Attwater's prairie-hen, 107, 193. Tympanuchus cupido — heath-hen, 107, 192. Tympanuchus pallidicinctus — lesser prairie-hen, 107, 193. Upland game, see names of game. Upland plover, see Bartram's sand- piper. Valley-partridge [Z. c. vallicola} 5, 91, 100. Valley-quail of California — Abundance of, 377. Valley-quail of California [contin- ued} — Call, 379-380. Compared with Bob-white, 378, 332. Compared with Gambel's par- tridge, 379, 380. Description, 378. Fearlessness and vivacity, 378- 379- Shooting, 380-386. Banding of quail, 381. Dog, necessity of, 382, 385. Expert, sport for, 380, 383- 385- Flight of quail, 383. Ventura, dusky grouse, 411. Welch's ptarmigan [Z. r. welchi] 107, 242. White-tailed buck, shooting, 257. White-tailed ptarmigan [Z. leucu- rus~\ 242-247. Mating, 245. Plumage, 245-246. Shooting — high altitudes, 243- 245- " White wolf of the north " — ptar- migan shooting, 238. Whooping crane [ Grus americana'] shooting, 353-359- Wild turkey \_Meleagris sylvestris'} 248-298. Coursing, 269-273. Demand for wild birds, 252-253. Eggs, hatching under domestic bird, 259-260. Florida wild turkey, 298-299. Mating, 258-259. Migration, 261-263. Owl attack on, 266-268. Range limit — scarcity of birds, 248-252. Shooting, 256-258, 269-298. Calling, 269, 273-277. Index 429 Wild turkey [continued] — Shooting [continued] — Coursing, 269-273. Shooting from ambush anec- dote, 293-298. Tracking, 277-293. Swimming anecdotes, 263-266. Trapping, 253-255. Young, delicacy of, 261. Willow ptarmigan \_Lagopus lagopus\ 221-228. Enemies of, 227. Flesh, value as food, 222. Mating, 225-226. Moulting, 228. Plumage coloration, changing, 222-223, 228. Refuge under snowdrifts, 224. Shooting — "A try for ptarmi- gan," 229-240. Snow-shoes, 223-224. Trails, 233-234. Young, devotion of parents to, 226. Wilson, A. — swimming turkey, 263-264. Wing-clapping habit of grouse, ui- 114. Wisconsin — Prairie-hen shooting, 168-169. Ruffed grouse shooting, 132-138. Woodcock — American woodcock, see that title. European, 345. Worms — Food of American woodcock, 306-312. Rising to surface of ground, 311-312. Young of game birds, see names of birds. Zenaidura macroura — mourning dove, 367. [See Mourning dove.] F. C. THE AMERICAN SPORTSMAN'S LIBRARY Edited by CASPAR WHITNEY Crown 8vo Cloth Each $2.00 net THE DEER FAMILY By THEODORE ROOSEVELT, T. S. VAN DYKE, D. G. ELLIOTT, and A. J. STONE. With many illustrations by CARL RUNGIUS, and map by DR. C. HART MERRIAM. UPLAND GAME BIRDS By EDWYN SANDYS and T. S. VAN DYKE. With many illustrations by L. A. FUERTES, A. B. FROST, J. O. NUGENT, and C. L. BULL. SALMON AND TROUT By DEAN SAGE, W. C. HARRIS, and C. H. TOWNSEND. 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