292 BULLETIN 162, UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM 



out as nearly as possible into the shape of a ball on two stunted supports), 

 strut about in circles, not all going the same way, but passing and crossing each 

 other in various angles. As the " dance " proceeds the excitement of the birds 

 increases, they stoop toward the ground, twist and turn, make sudden rushes 

 forward, stamping the ground with short quick beats of the feet, leaping over 

 each other in their frenzy, then lowering their heads, exhaust the air in the 

 sacs, producing a hollow sound that goes reverberating through the still air of 

 the breaking day. Suddenly they become quiet, and walk about like creatures 

 whose sanity is unquestioned, when some male again becomes possessed and 

 starts off on a rampage, and the " attack " from which he suffers becomes in- 

 fectious and all the other birds at once give evidences of having taken the same 

 disease, which then proceeds with a regular development to the usual con- 

 clusion. As the sun gets well above the horizon, and night's shadows have all 

 been hurried away, the antics of the birds cease, the booming no longer re- 

 sounds over the prairie, and the Grouse scatter in search of food, and in pursuit 

 of their daily avocation. While this performance is always to be seen in the 

 spring, it is not unusually indulged in for a brief turn in the autumn, and while 

 it may be considered as essentially a custom of the breeding season, yet like 

 the drumming of the Ruffed Grouse, it may be regarded also as an exhibition 

 of the birds' vigor and vitality, indulged in at periods of the year even when 

 the breeding season has long passed. 



Ernest Thompson Seton (Thompson, 1890) says : 



The whole performance reminds one so strongly of a Cree dance as to sug- 

 gest the possibility of its being the prototype of the Indian exercise. The 

 space occupied by the dancers is from 50 to 100 feet across, and as it is re- 

 turned to year after year, the grass is usually worn off and the ground trampled 

 down hard and smooth. 



Hamilton M. Laing (1913) noticed that the birds danced in pairs 

 and that each pair usually kept to a certain section of the hill. He 

 describes a lively fight he saw as follows : 



The fun had reached its frenzy pitch when suddenly I noted that something 

 other than dancing was taking place. It very much resembled a fight; and 

 soon I realized that such it really was, though it had a most absurdly comic 

 side to it. The fray was a three-cornered affair. The first fellow fled in circles ; 

 the second followed him ; and the third brought up the rear. I decided that it 

 was two cocks fighting, and that the cause at issue, and root of the trouble, was 

 merely following the contestants. They whirled about the hill at lightning 

 speed, running on legs that fairly spun, or dashing short snatches on the wing, 

 through the set or over the dancers. The second fellow had blood in his eye, 

 and the first — evidently an interloper, who was not wanted — lacked the courage 

 or fiber to turn and fight it out. Yet, when the pursuer caught him, they bit 

 and held on with a grip like bull-dogs, and rolled over, and beat each other 

 with their wings, and shed each other's feathers. The interloper always got 

 thumped, but not until he was properly mauled would he retreat. 



E. S. Cameron (1907) writes: 



At this date (April 18) the ball is opened by a single cock making a run 

 across the open space as fast as he can use his legs, the tail being inclined 

 stiffly over the back, while the wings are dragged, so that a large white area is 

 exposed behind. The vivid yellow supraciliary fringe is erected, and, all the 

 feathers of the neck standing on end, a pink inflated sac is disclosed. At the 



