28 FEATHERED GAME 



clearing that the lumberman has made, now 

 growing up with blackberries, raspberries, and 

 all the underbrush which so quickly covers up 

 these unsightly scars on mother Nature's face? 

 Then some bright September morning while the 

 dew still glitters on blade and leaf, take your 

 dog and gun and beat it up. A little amphi- 

 theatre overgrown with berry bushes and low 

 brush, walled in on every side by a sturdy 

 growth of pines, spruces or hemlock, dark green 

 and solid in their masses. One lone dead stub 

 towers above the smaller and younger growth 

 of the clearing. Gray and desolate it stands, 

 bristling with the ragged and broken remains 

 of its former lusty youth, and at its feet the 

 bare ledge stone shows through its garment of 

 moss, pine needles and scanty grass. Here is 

 a low stump which a dozen changing seasons 

 have almost levelled with the ground, and on 

 its sides and at its base the marks of the par- 

 tridges' scratching feet as they search for the 

 grubs and worms, tenants at will of its inner 

 chambers. On one side a shallow, round hole 

 scooped out of the dry earth shows where the 

 bird has made his dust bath and lain basking in 

 the sun during the warm afternoons. And on 



