126 Next to the Ground 



grow older. Thus she puts them out of reach 

 of foxes, though she brings them within the 

 range of owls. Still, as she is wise enough to 

 roost for the most part in viny tangles, the 

 owls carry off but few. Owls must strike 

 flying to strike with effect. 



A cock-pheasant drumming is a figure of 

 pride. How he drums nobody quite under- 

 stands. He can make the sound standing on 

 the ground, though he commonly stands upon 

 a fallen tree, and prefers to drum on a trunk 

 bare of bark. He spreads his tail fan-wise, 

 after the manner of a peacock, raises his ruff 

 stiffly behind and around his head, lets his 

 wings drop, and struts, swelling his breast, 

 preening, stretching his neck, and looking 

 upon every side. You can hear the tips of 

 the wing-quills draw hard against the tree 

 trunk, as the bird wheels slowly about. He 

 seems to listen intently. All at once the 

 wings begin to move, so swiftly the eye can- 

 not follow them. They do not seem to strike 

 either the bird's body or the log underneath, 

 yet all about there sounds a curious vibrant 

 drumming, almost metallic, as loud many 

 yards off as close at hand. After a minute it 

 stops short, to begin again and continue longer. 

 Between drummings the drummer walks back 

 and forth with his head aside, listening toward 

 every point of the compass. 



