The Ruffed Grouse 405 



of its fan fading in the dark rotunda of the forest 

 would not be travelled for a bird that rose in the 

 open and made an easy mark. Moreover, a large 

 bag of anything is, at last, distinctly out of fash- 

 ion, even on this coast, is being rapidly forbidden 

 by law, and the laws are being enforced. And 

 the laws are made by those who best know what 

 makes a day's sport with the gun. 



And here he is full of his old tricks with some 

 new ones adapted to the new conditions. And 

 all are so natural, for he has had no persecution 

 to make him study the art of escape as the quail 

 has. One must not only know how to shoot in 

 brush, but must also be in good practice, or only 

 the roar of wings will reward his efforts and he 

 will watch in vain for the falling of the brown 

 line whose arrowy flight pierces the distant 

 thicket with no sign of wavering. Here from a 

 fallen tree rises a huge skein of upturned roots, 

 and the bird is behind it before you can turn the 

 gun upon it. The roots will stop nearly all the 

 shot, but your only hope rests on a few getting 

 through, for if you wait to see the whizzing mark 

 on the other side it will be only when far out of 

 reach, if in sight at all. For he knows as much 

 about keeping upturned butts of a tree between 

 you and him as about doing the same with the 

 trunk of a tree. 



Here is a bunch of tamaracks, so dense that 



