known, would have been laughable. The bird was counterfeiting injury and an 

 inabihty to fly in the endeavor to draw the supposed enemy from its treasure. 

 This is a favorite trick of many members of the sparrow tribe, and that it is at 

 times successful there isn't a doubt. The vesper sparrow that was performing 

 for my benefit spread one of its wings out and dragged it along the ground as 

 though it were broken. The little creature propelled itself with its other wing, 

 which it beat violently against the grass blades. Finally, when it had reached a 

 point about ten yards from the nest, it spread both wings to their fullest extent 

 and skimmed the surface of the green pasture as though it were using a pair of 

 sculls. Eventually it flew away to join its mate, who was scolding vociferouslv 

 near at hand. So far from doing violence to the home of that devoted mother, 

 I performed a service for her by removing from the nest the egg which a cow-bird 

 had deposited there for the vesper sparrow to hatch. The hatching of this para- 

 site egg with the hatching of those of the sparrow itself would have meant, 

 doubtless, that the young cow-bird, by its superior size and great greed, would 

 have received the major part of the food to the sacrifice of its foster brothers 

 and sisters. One morning, when on my way to pay a visit to the vesper sparrow's 

 nest, I stopped at the fence and looked across the field to the spot where I knew 

 the little home was hidden in the grass. The field was pasture-land, and a cow 

 was grazing within a few yards of the sparrow's nest. It drew dangerottsly near 

 to the grass clump where the bird was brooding, and in another instant I saw the 

 sparrow leave the nest and perform exactly the same series of gymnastics for 

 the cow's benefit that it had a day or two before for mine. Whether this mother 

 bird thought she cotild lure away from her home, through motives of curiositv, 

 this terrific horned beast or not, I cannot say, but the efTort was made in apparent 

 good faith. It is hard to be obliged to make a tragedy out of that into which 

 comedy has so largely entered. Before the young vesper sparrows had been 

 three days out of the shell one of the grazing cattle put an end to the little ones' 

 lives with a misplaced step. Much more than a month later I saw a pair of vesper 

 sparrows feeding four fledgling young in the same field. I believe that the plucky 

 little mother, rising superior to disaster, had succeeded finally in raising a prom- 

 ising family. 



No bird better typifies the wild life of the woods than the ruffed grouse, or 

 partridge, as it is commonly called. Flushed from its forest retreat in the 

 autumn, the whir of its wings through the falling leaves is like the whirling of 

 a belted mill-wheel. The rush of its flight through the brush strikes a sort of 

 terror to the novice sportsman who stands with gun in nervous hands, nor thinks 

 of shooting till the bolt-like pace of the bird has put it well beyond danger. This 

 is the ruft'ed grouse of the time of the ripened shellbark and of the blood-red 

 sumac. Then the bird's every effort is for self-preservation. In the earlier year, 

 almost before the pulsing fullness of the spring has passed, the bird that flees in 

 the fall at the approach of the despoiler stays to dispute his right to intrude, and 

 if necessary to give him battle. Others have told the story of the attack that the 



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