PARTRIDGE NESTING HABITS 141 



A mild afternoon in March was merging into 

 dusk as the old farmer-carpenter closed the 

 gate of his cornfield, and, guiding his plough 

 over the ruts and the stones of a rough path- 

 way behind the farm, trudged homewards with 

 a weary team. The clank of harness and plough- 

 share had died away, leaving the silence of the 

 plough-land unbroken except for the cawing of 

 the rooks, when a partridge suddenly appeared 

 from a rabbit-creep and wandered over the new- 

 cut furrows in the cornfield. The little brown 

 bird, alert for every sign of danger, moved out 

 into the fringe of grass between the nearest 

 furrows and the ditch, and for a few moments 

 fed daintily on some fresh sprouts of herbage 

 exposed by the plough, and on grubs and flies 

 that, disturbed from their winter sleep, were 

 hurrying over the damp clods to seek the shelter 

 of the grass. 



Instinctively feeling the presence of spring 

 in the scent of the earth, of the grass, and of the 

 buds on the gorse by the ditch the partridge 

 stood upright, while the westering light shone full 

 on the horse-shoe markings of his breast, and 

 uttered his cry, he-whit! ke-whit ! Tee-whit! 

 And what an unexpected noise he made ! This 

 was the first time he had attempted the " chal- 

 lenge," and for a moment he was almost startled 

 by his own effort. A rook stalking over a near 



