The Prairie- Hen i6i 



The unfortunate writer voiced a good imitation 

 of the strange sound. 



" Why, you d d young fool — that's a bull- 

 frog/ " roared the old cock, making a wrathful 

 pass with his cane. But the writer was agile, and 

 he fled abashed. The next time he heard the 

 sound, he deliberately forfeited all chance for 

 waterfowl by wading directly across the marsh 

 through water and mud frequently up to his 

 waist. The sound led him on and on, until at 

 last he descried a large fowl-like bird upon a 

 knoll, and traced the sound to it. When the 

 bird flushed, he didn't know what it was, so he 

 shot at it, and greatly to his regret it proved to 

 be a fine male pinnated grouse, or prairie-hen. 

 He stuffed the bird, and it is still in his posses- 

 sion, and although he has since killed hundreds 



— perhaps thousands might be nearer the mark 



— he has yet to see a finer specimen. Later 

 developments proved the old male to have had 

 company, to be exact, upon the plains in question, 

 and upon another similar expanse a few miles 

 away, there were years later as many as seventy- 

 five or one hundred " chickens." Possibly a few 

 of their descendants still survive. 



But to see the chicken at home, one should go 

 to the Dakotas, Minnesota, or Manitoba, or one 

 of the good western grounds. The observer, who 

 should be equipped with a powerful glass, may 



