SHOOTING THE WOODS GROUSE 361 
of life and fatness, or when following bobwhite 
through the hazel thicket, or when roaming from pond 
to pond in search of ducks among the vine-clad arbors 
of the river bottom. And often the hunter of the deer 
sees him strut before him as he sits resting on a fallen 
log, and often, when on the trail of the deer in winter, 
sees him shake the snow from his lightning wings, as, 
bursting from its cover, the bird goes whizzing away 
amid the snow-draped trees. 
Few of those who most love this noble bird have 
ever seen him in the simplicity of youth, before he 
has left his mother’s side and gone forth to roam alone 
the spangled shades of the rugged mountain side or 
the somber shrubbery of the tangled glen. For his 
hearthstone is too often in the dense mass of sum- 
mer’s wealth, and few are the eyes that can follow 
him into the deep, dark brake or into the shaggy cov- 
ering of the mountain’s breast, until autumn’s frosts 
have tattered their gay banners and trailed their green 
glory in the dust. 
For certainty of finding this grouse at home in his 
early days, with comfort in hunting him, few places 
have ever equaled the bluff regions of the upper Mis- 
sissippi. Here this grouse lived and loved, and stayed 
until long after the autumn leaves were scattered on 
a thousand winds; and even after the deep snows of 
winter fell upon his early playground many a one re- 
mained instead of seeking the covers of the bottom 
lands. Here he may be found while the trees stand 
in the full green of summer and before any hue of 
