RUFFED GROUSE; PARTRIDGE 99 



against the wind, I was not convinced that they were 

 birds till I had pulled out my glass and deliberately 

 examined them. They sat and stood, three of them, per- 

 fectly still with their heads erect, some darker feathers 

 like ears, methinks, increasing their resemblance to 

 scrabs [szc], as where a small limb is broken off. I was 

 much surprised at the remarkable stillness they pre- 

 served, instinctively relying on the resemblance to the 

 ground for their protection, i. e. withered grass, dry 

 oak leaves, dead scrags, and broken twigs. I thought 

 at first that it was a dead oak limb with a few stub ends 

 or scrabbs [sic] sticking up, and for some time after 1 

 had noted the resemblance to birds, standing only two 

 rods off, I could not be sure of their character on ac- 

 count of their perfect motionlessness, and it was not 

 till I brought my glass to bear on them and saw their 

 eyes distinctly, steadily glaring on me, their necks 

 and every muscle tense with anxiety, that I was con- 

 vinced. At length, on some signal which I did not 

 perceive, they went with a whir, as if shot, off over the 

 bushes. 



^eb. 12, 1855. I see at Warren's Crossing where, 

 last night perhaps, some partridges rested in this light, 

 dry, deep snow. They must have been almost com- 

 pletely buried. They have left their traces at the bot- 

 tom. They are such holes as would be made by crowding 

 their bodies in backwards, slanting-wise, while perhaps 

 their heads were left out. The dog scared them out of 

 similar holes yesterday in the open orchard. 



J^eb. 13, 1855. The tracks of partridges are more 

 remarkable in this snow than usual, it is so light, being 



