Where Town and Country Meet 



dusting itself in the sun. A pretty sight it 

 must have been the large, grayish bird, 

 with its alert, trim head and bright eyes 

 always watchful, tossing the dust with vig 

 orous flirts of the wing far up over its back, 

 and nestling and shifting round and round in 

 the warm hollow. I have seen hundreds of 

 such dusting-holes in my rambles through 

 the woods, but only once have I beheld a 

 ruffed grouse actually dusting itself as I 

 have described. It was at noon of a hot 

 September day, and I was lying in the shade 

 beside the wood-path, when the cautious bird 

 stole out for its midday bath. It was a hen 

 grouse, trim in body and graceful and quick 

 in every movement. I lay motionless, watch 

 ing her, for nearly fifteen minutes. Then a 

 dog barked at the foot of the ridge, and the 

 grouse was gone in an instant, leaving a few 

 soft feathers swirling down into the dust. 

 How large a part of the life and interest 

 of the woods centers in the birds! Every 

 true nature-lover speaks of them first and 

 chiefly when describing his outdoor ram 

 bles. Yet there are other creatures and 

 things that win the attention of a rambler 

 by the autumn wood-path. He notes the 

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