Ruffed Grouse. Partridge 



along the ground. But while we are watching her, what 

 has become of the ten or a dozen little yellow balls we 

 almost stepped upon. Not a feather do we see, until, 

 poking about in the leaves, we find one little chap hiding 

 here and another squatting there, all perfectly still, and 

 so like the leaves in color as to be nearly invisible. 



Chapman. Bird Life.^^ 



Nature has not asked this bird to walk the snows for 

 its living without providing it with proper means of loco- 

 motion. With its slender summer foot it would sink in 

 the soft drift at every step, while now it walks with perfect 

 ease on the lightest snow, for each foot is provided with 

 a snow-shoe. Every autumn the shoe begins to grow, 

 a stiff fringe of horny bristles spreading around the sole 

 and on both sides of each toe, until, by the time the blizzard 

 arrives, the bird is ready to walk on the highest drifts. 

 The intention of this bristly growth is perfectly plain, 

 for in April, when the snows have melted you may look 

 in vain for the snow-shoe; the grouse has kicked it off 

 as a thing that has served its purpose. 



Gibson. Sharp Eyes.^^ 



Then it is the stately partridge 

 Spreads his ruff and mounts his rostrum, 

 Gazes proudly round the thicket. 

 Sounds his strange and muffled signal. 

 First with slow and heavy measure. 

 Then like eager, hurried heart-beats. 

 Ending in a nervous flutter 

 Faster than the ear can reckon. 



BoLLES. Chocorua's Tenants.^^ 



107 



