The Sage- Grouse 217 



meaning a lot of wounded birds. The coveys 

 usually are small, as the young have many ene- 

 mies, among which the chief are fierce storms, 

 wet, wolves, foxes, and rapacious birds, while man 

 plays no unimportant part in the work of destruc- 

 tion. The flush is straggling, and the flight noisy, 

 labored, and unsteady, until the bird has gathered 

 speed, when it changes from a laborious beating 

 to a swifter, smoother advance by alternate periods 

 of flapping and sailing. At the flush, and for 

 some time after, the bird utters a sharp cackling. 

 It never trees ; in fact, it avoids everything like 

 heavy cover, presumably because such shelter 

 might interfere with its rising. It roosts upon the 

 ground, the droppings showing a roughly circular 

 and well-separated disposition of the members of 

 the covey. So disposed, with heads outward, the 

 birds are ready to get under way, in case of a 

 night attack, without collision or interference from 

 neighbors. 



As winter tightens its grip upon the sage lands, 

 the birds of many broods unite into packs of from 

 fifty to one hundred and odd. The flush of one 

 of these large packs is something to be remem- 

 bered, for great is the tumult of wings, and pierc- 

 ing the cackling, as the heavy fowl beat the air in 

 frantic efforts to get squared away upon their 

 chosen course. At this season the only way to 

 get any sport out of them is by using the rifle. 



