IN THE HEMLOCKS 63 



watchful ear to hear it. How gentle and solicitous 

 and full of yearning love ! It is the voice of the 

 mother hen. Presently a faint timid " Yeap ! " 

 which almost eludes the ear, is heard in various 

 directions, the young responding. As no danger 

 seems near, the cooing of the parent bird is soon a 

 very audible clucking call, and the young move 

 cautiously in the direction. Let me step never so 

 carefully from my hiding-place, and all sounds in- 

 stantly cease, and I search in vain for either parent 

 or young. 



The partridge is one of our most native and char- 

 acteristic birds. The woods seem good to be in 

 where I find him. He gives a habitable air to the 

 forest, and one feels as if the rightful occupant was 

 really at home. The woods where I do not find 

 him seem to want something, as if suffering from 

 some neglect of Nature. And then he is such a 

 splendid success, so hardy and vigorous. I think 

 he enjoys the cold and the snow. His wings seem 

 to rustle with more fervency in midwinter. If the 

 snow falls very fast, and promises a heavy storm, 

 he will complacently sit down and allow himself to 

 be snowed under. Approaching him at such times, 

 he suddenly bursts out of the snow at your feet, 

 scattering the flakes in all directions, and goes hum- 

 ming away through the woods like a bomb-shell, 

 a picture of native spirit and success. 



His drum is one of the most welcome and beau- 

 tiful sounds of spring. Scarcely have the trees 

 expanded their buds, when, in the still April morn- 



