THE RUFFED GROUSE. \*J 



Well, is not that worth coming to see ? One 

 who does not feel that little toil repaid with even 

 a glimpse of this royal game would not appreciate 

 closer acquaintance. 



You are in heavier cover than is necessary now. 

 When the autumn rains have tattered the drapery 

 of these thickets you may see something long 

 enough to shoot at it, but now you had better go 

 where it is more open. Let us leave this heavy 

 cover and cross this meadow where the bluejoint 

 waves yet green and above the falling clover the 

 tender purple of the calopogon nods. Where 

 under arcades of alder the swift brook gurgles 

 through grassy banks you shall find the groves 

 of plum and thorn more open. 



Biib — bub — bub — bub — bubbubbiibbubbbbbbbbbbb 

 sounds already from the distant thicket, for here 

 upon the upper Mississippi the ruffed grouse 

 drums often in the warm days of fall, and its 

 strange beat quickens your pace. 



Scarcely does the dog reach the outer edge of 

 the thicket when he seems suddenly weary, his 

 legs drag, and his tail becomes straighter. He 

 pauses for a moment beneath the crimson of the 

 sumac, and then with delicate snifTs of upraised 



