112 KNOWING BIRDS THROUGH STORIES 



large as a guinea fowl. In the early history of our 

 country prairie chickens bred by the millions in parts of 

 Illinois, Iowa, Nebraska, Kansas, and the country border- 

 ing on those States. Like most of their family they do not 

 fear the cold and, except on the plains, seldom migrate 

 more than a few miles, if at all. They used to gather in 

 our meadow and spend hours running about eating grass 

 and picking up such hibernating worms or grubs as they 

 were able to scratch out of the frozen ground. They were 

 an interesting lot of birds, and were so cheery and happy 

 that we would not shoot them ourselves, and did not per- 

 mit anyone else to do so. 



Our garden was surrounded by an Osage Orange hedge 

 that had been trimmed carefully and was so thick that 

 one could scarcely see through it. It was an easy thing 

 to slip along under cover of this hedge and get within 

 fifty or seventy-five yards of the prairie chickens to watch 

 them at their feeding. They were sociable birds, always 

 good natured. Never once at such seasons did I see fight- 

 ing or quarreling in the flock. 



In those days we as well as practically all our neighbors 

 ate prairie chicken, but we did not care to shoot them be- 

 cause we did not wish to frighten them away. We rec- 

 ognized that most of them had been reared on the prairie 

 forty or fifty miles away, and had gathered in our part 

 of the country in the winter only because they could there 

 secure more food and protection. But we could not help 

 hoping that some of them would remain behind and nest 

 on our place, especially if we did not disturb them over- 

 much. 



In the early morning and late evening those prairie 

 chickens would fly to the various cornfields in the neigh- 



