102 The Ottawa Naturalist. [Nov 



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gallinaceous appearance, some seventeen inches long and of 

 stout build. The extraordinary "drumming" noise made by 

 the male bird to call the female is familiar to everyone who 

 frequents the woods in the spring. To produce this remarkable 

 sound the bird stands on some slight elevation, such as a log or 

 a stone, and stiikes the air strongly with his outstretched 

 wings. The first four or five strokes, occurring at intervals of 

 about half a second, sound like blows on a rather dull bass 

 drum, but they rapidly get faster and faster until the sound 

 becomes continuous like the roll of a snare drum. The whole 

 performance lasts, perhaps, ten seconds, and is repeated every 

 few minutes for some time. 



In the northern part of its range this bird has another 

 peculiar habit, that of tunnelling into a snowdrift for protection 

 against the intense cold. In order to begin its tunnel it some- 

 times walks around, deliberately burrowing here and there 

 into the snow with its head until it finds a suitable 

 place, but its general procedure is to dive from an 

 elevated branch or directly off the wing into the drift, 

 the momentum of its plunge being sufficient to drive it 

 some little way into the soft snow, and thus enable it to start 

 its tunnels conveniently. Then, at a depth of three or four 

 inches under the surface, it scratches out a horizontal or slightly 

 descending passage about two feet long, the end of which it 

 enlarges into a roughly spherical chamber eight or ten inches in 

 diameter, the removed snow completely blocking up the entrance 

 tunnel. 1 Here the bird, apparently preferring hunger to cold, 

 may spend several days if the weather is severe. Except for 

 one mark where the tunnel begins, the surface of the snow is 

 quite undisturbed, and no one would ever suspect that a live 

 warm bird was concealed in the drift. To leave its burrow, 

 the bird simply bursts out through the overlying layer of snow, 

 springing into immediate flight. 



One day last January, when the thermometer stood 10 

 below zero F., I stopped a moment while snowshoeing through 

 the woods to examine a curious isolated mark on the snow. 

 At that instant a "partridge" burst out just at the toes of my 

 snowshoes, and with a great whirr of wings disappeared among 

 the spruces. The mark I had noticed was the entrance to the 

 tunnel, and from its appearance the bird had evidently been three 

 or four days in its burrow, and would dotibteless have remained 

 there longer if my approach had not frightened it out. Dry, 

 soft snow is, of course, an excellent non-conductor of heat, 

 and even in I he very coldest weather, the ruffed grouse is no 

 doubt quite comfortable in its immaculate chamber.- Charles 

 Macnamara, in Knowledge, Aug., 1912. 



