The Dusky Grouse 149 



Let the tenderfoot climb the steeps and try a few 

 blue grouse as they leave the trees, and his song 

 may take on an undertone suggestive of blasted 

 hopes and trust betrayed. In the first place, the 

 cover usually is standing timber big enough to 

 stop a locomotive, to say nothing of small shot. 

 This timber, as I found it, is about as close as it 

 can stand, thereby forming something closely akin 

 to a gigantic stockade with extremely narrow inter- 

 spaces. Imagine a picket fence enlarged to Titanic 

 proportions with a swift bird whizzing along one 

 side, while from the other side the gun strove to 

 stop him as he crossed the gaps. Such a fence 

 would have a deal more picket than gap, and a 

 series of kills would represent a heap more luck 

 than good management on the part of the shooter. 

 Shooting through such an obstacle would mean 

 that when the bird was visible the gun would, or 

 should, be just ahead and swinging at equal speed, 

 which would further mean that the trigger would 

 have to be pulled either while the bird was invisi- 

 ble or while the gun was squarely on a picket — 

 a somewhat bitter experience has proved that 

 almost invariably the gun was on the picket, and 

 that the picket was some feet thick and utterly 

 unreasonable. 



This grouse also is most difficult to locate even 

 when perched upon a limb only a few yards away. 

 In its native woods the light is baffling and there 



