WILD TURKEY HUNTING. 21 
bright plumage grows dim, and with a low cluck, he re- 
sumes his search for food. 
The treasures of the American forest are before 
him ; the choice pecan-nut is neglected for that immense 
“grub worm” that rolls down the decayed stump, 
too large to crawl; now that grasshopper is nabbed; 
presently a hill of ants presents itself, and the bird 
leans over it, and, with wondering curiosity, peering 
down the tiny hole of its entrance, out of which are is- 
suing the industrious insects. 
Again that cluck greets his ear, up rises the head 
with lightning swiftness, the bird starts forward a pace 
or two, looks around in wonder, and answers back. 
No sound is heard but the falling acorn; and it 
fairly echoes, as it rattles from limb to limb, and dashes 
off to the ground. 
The bird is uneasy—he picks pettishly, smooths 
down his feathers, elevates his head slowly, and then 
brings it to the earth; raises his wings as if for flight, 
jumps upon the limb of a fallen tree, looks about, set- 
tles down finally into a brown study, and evidently com- 
mences thinking. 
An hour may have elapsed—he has resolved the matter 
over; his imagination has become inflamed; he has 
heard just enough to wish to hear more; he is satis- 
fied, that no turkey-hunter uttered the sounds that 
reached his ear, for they were too few and far between ; 
and then there rises up in his mind some disconsolate 
