8o Grouse. 



stroll out in the afternoon with the shot-gun. A couple 

 of miles from the house was a cedar canyon ; that is, a 

 canyon one of whose sides was densely wooded with 

 gnarled, stunted evergreens. This had been a favorite 

 resort for the sharp-tails for some time, and it was espe- 

 cially likely that they would go to it during a storm, as it 

 afforded fine shelter, and also food. The buttes bound- 

 ing it on the side where the trees were, rose to a sharp 

 crest, which extended along with occasional interruptions 

 for over a mile, and by walking along near this and occa- 

 sionally looking out over it, I judged I would get up close 

 to the grouse, while the falling snow and the wind would 

 deaden the report of the gun, and not let it scare all the 

 prairie fowl out of the canyon at the first fire. It came 

 out as I had planned and expected. I clambered up to 

 the crest near the mouth of the gorge, braced myself 

 firmly, and looked over the top. At once a dozen sharp- 

 tails, who had perched in the cedar tops almost at my 

 feet, took wing, crossed over the canyon, and as they 

 rose all in a bunch to clear the opposite wall I fired both 

 barrels into the brown, and two of the birds dropped down 

 to the bottom of the ravine. They fell on the snow- 

 covered open ground where I could easily find them again, 

 and as it would have been a great and useless labor to 

 have gone down for them, I left them where they were 

 and walked on along the crest. Before I had gone a 

 hundred yards I had put up another sharp-tail from a 

 cedar and killed him in fine style as he sailed off below 

 me. The snow and bad weather seemed to make the 

 prairie fowl disinclined to move. There must have been 



