26 



THE OOLOOI8T. 



up what game he can, and goes away 

 without paying his respects to the 

 farmer. 



For many years I fished and hunted 

 all over this county with a man — 

 country-ibred — who invariably placed 

 his horse in the barn under the farm- 

 er's care, and paid liberally for all 

 privileges, and was ever a welcome 

 guest at the farmer's table. 



Two Woodstock gunners, born, 

 ■bred, and living in the country, who 

 shoot in our woods, bring us part of 

 their bags on lucky days. This sea- 

 son, last year, and in former years, 

 they have generously divided their 

 chicken pats, and woodcock with us. 

 These gentlemen have not fired a 

 shell at quail for four years. But one 

 day, in a season when quail were 

 abundant, they stood on a neighbor's 

 line and dropped three extra large 

 quail on our land, which were at once 

 given to us. This trio of bo'b-'whites, 

 nicely set up, are in our summer 

 home as souvenirs of a vanishing 

 race, and perpetual mementoes of 

 two farmers and country gentlemen 

 who do not require association and 

 example of city shots to tell them 

 what is manly and right to do. 



But, alas! the close of the season 

 saw the end of the career of our old 

 cock partridge who- for a decade has 

 lived a charmed life in our woods. In 

 the spring we have often listened to 

 his rataplan, and he is the only ruffed 

 grouse I ever heard drum in autumn. 

 We knew his favorite patches of eye- 

 bright and dewberries, met him huck- 

 leberrying in open brush, and many 

 times have seen him dusting his col- 

 lar and turkey-like tail in an unused 

 roadway. Others have seen him 'bud- 

 ding in maple and apple tress, and 

 this season when we surprised him 

 with three females he was too indig- 

 nant for flight and stalked away out 

 of sight like a Mongolian pheasant. 

 He exceeded the extreme local weight 



of 2 and 3-4 pounds, and was in bril- 

 liant winter dress. If wiring will re- 

 store the ruff and enormous fan, the 

 taxidermist will be given a white card 

 to give us a lifelike semblance of this 

 superb si:ecimen. He was presented 

 to us by a hunter, neighbor and farm- 

 er, who needed no hint for his act of 

 courtesy from the shooting gentle- 

 men of refinement and culture from 

 town. 



We shall miss this noble grouse 

 from his beautiful woodland home, 

 where I hope to spend many more 

 days, meet some of his descendants', 

 and where in some sentimental mood 

 I may feel like pencilling on a beech 

 or white birch in his special praise a 

 tribute more worthy of the place and 

 bird than the following jingle: 



Old Red Ruff played his bluff 

 Through many a joyous year; 



Of winter's cold and foxes bold 

 He had but little fear. 



Behind a tree from you and me 

 He'd dodge the charge of shot; 



The treetops o'er, his flight would 

 soar 

 In an eye-puzzling knot. 



He'd outwit a gun, in zigzag run 

 'Round many a screening sitump — 



A setter's nose would not disclose 

 His perch in hemlock clump. 



The woods would hum with his merry 

 drum 



Beat loud from log or wall; 

 Rival and wife in am'rous strife 



Obeyed the sovereign call. 



At his flushing whirr, pulses would 

 stir 

 From the berrypicker's heart; 

 That roaring whirl scared many a 

 churl — 

 Made e'en the woodfolk start. 



By our swampy path he'd take a bath 

 On a hot summer's day; 



