LESSER PRAIRIE CHICKEN 283 



almost entirely on kaffir corn and maize, cane seed, and other va- 

 rieties of semi-arid cereals. As to the palatableness of the meat 

 I much prefer duck." 

 Behavior. — The same observer says: 



In general characteristics and makeup the lesser prairie hen is of a sturdy, 

 robust nature, being some two-thirds the size of the common prairie hen. 

 They are veritable dynamos of " git up " and energy. Such vivacity and 

 activity I have never seen displayed in any other game bird. On a cold, 

 snappy day they have the life and energy of half a dozen quails, and for speed 

 they put their first cousin to shame. A full-grown cock, well fatted, will 

 weigh from a pound eleven ounces to a pound fourteen ounces. 



Game. — Judged from Mr. Colvin's published accounts (1914 and 

 1927) the lesser prairie chicken must be a fine game bird, sufficiently 

 wild and swift of wing to make sporty shooting, and large and 

 plump enough to make a desirable table bird. These birds were 

 wonderfully abundant in earlier days, as a few quotations from Mr. 

 Colvin's writings will show. " In a cane field near the State Line," 

 he says, "we saw a flock of 500 or more, and when they arose it 

 seemed that a hole had been rent in the earth." He wanted to 

 stop and shoot a feAv, but his companion urged him on, saying, 

 " Those are only rovers. I'll show you some chickens when we get 

 up in the State." Evidently he made good, for Mr. Colvin (1914) 

 writes : 



Two miles farther along we came to Ed Ward's. He informed us that 

 there were a " few " chickens in a cane and kaffir corn field a quarter of a 

 mile east. We flushed several birds from the tall bunch grass just before 

 we reached the field, which were promptly despatched ; however, in the field 

 things became more lively. Such a sight I have never seen before nor since. 

 Chickens were flushing everywhere, and droves of fifty to a hundred would take 

 down the corn rows, sounding like a moving avalanche as they touched the 

 blades of corn. Still birds were quite wary, and the only good shots were to be 

 had over the dog. 



As we thrashed back and forth across the grain field, the chickens arose 

 in flocks of fifty to five hundred, and generally sixty to eighty yards distant, 

 making shooting difficult. The majority of the birds, after being flushed, would 

 fly back into the field, while some would go to the bunch-grass covered hills half 

 a mile away. Mr. Ward and I estimated that there were from thirty-five 

 hundred to four thousand chickens in this one field, a sight never to be 

 forgotten. 



A few years later, hunting over the same ground, he found the 

 chickens much diminished in numbers; his thoughts are expressed 

 as follows: 



Gathering our duds together, we started for our long journey home. A few 

 clouds, fringed with gold, freckled the western sky, and over all a red mantle 

 was cast while the sun slowly lowered to the horizon. My mind went back to 

 the events of the day and to the time when the chickens were more plentiful, 

 and I realized with a shudder that we were nearing the sunset life of the king 

 of upland game birds. But the decrease in their numbers is not due so much to 



