THE PRAIRIE CHICKEN 117 



left our teams and ran to him in triumph, beat his head 

 over the stake and hung his carcass from its top, and from 

 that time our prairie chicken's nest was secure from moles- 

 tation. 



Examination showed that there were still six eggs un- 

 broken and that the bird had not begun to sit. We knew 

 better than to touch the prairie chicken's eggs or to get too 

 near the nest, for we did not want the mother to desert 

 it. So we contented ourselves with marking the place so 

 that we could easily find it again. The mother, now that 

 her tormentor was gone, laid several more eggs and hatched 

 the last brood of prairie chickens I ever knew to be raised 

 on our farm. 



Little prairie chickens look very much like little quail, 

 except that they are larger. Any one who is familiar with 

 newly hatched guinea fowls knows about what a little 

 prairie chicken looks like, for, I believe, if one should mix 

 the eggs of the two birds together, when they hatched he 

 would have difficulty distinguishing the young birds from 

 each other until they were perhaps a week old and the 

 wing and tail feathers started to grow. 



Like young quails they have the faculty of hiding any- 

 where, anytime, should danger come. The mother could 

 be leading the young birds through the grass, all of them 

 as busy as could be, catching young grasshoppers and 

 small bugs, but let me show my head and away she would 

 go with a whir that would startle any one and not a young 

 bird was to be seen. I have spent half an hour looking 

 for the young birds when I knew at least a dozen were con- 

 cealed within ten or twelve feet of me and still would not 

 be able to find one. After becoming more familiar with 

 them I found that they not only squatted flat on the ground 



