THE RUFFED GROUSE 37 



the bird will fly straight down to the bottom and 

 when out of sight turn sharply to one side for 

 another hundred yards. 



If I may have but one month for partridge 

 shooting give me November. Lowery skies, the 

 threat of a storm in the chill air, when the birds 

 are putting in provisions for the days of hun- 

 ger which a snowstorm makes; or the first 

 bright day after the storm has passed and the 

 birds have come out on the sunny spots to bask 

 in the warmth they now appreciate. I shall 

 ever hold one old hill in warm remembrance for 

 many days of glorious sport along its rocky 

 spurs. A high, gray ledge, pine- and hemlock- 

 covered on the crown and base, its slopes clad 

 with sumac, blackberry bushes, wild rose 

 bushes, scattered scrub pines and small birches, 

 the naked rocks half buried in the junipers, and 

 a few lordly chestnut trees towering over all. 

 My last day of the season as a sample of many: 

 two days of rain and sleet, cold and miserable, 

 and on the third day the storm breaking and 

 the afternoon sun flooding the hillsides. From 

 a sense of duty I had hunted the alder coverts 

 and the thick growths which had sheltered them 

 on other days, where a few difficult shots had 



