IN THE HEMLOCKS. 67 



unfold, and in an incredibly short time the young make 

 fair headway in flying. 



The same rapid development of wing may be ob- 

 served in chickens and turkeys, but not in water-fowls, 

 nor in birds that are safely housed in the nest till full- 

 fledged. The other day, by a brook, I came suddenly 

 upon a young sand-piper, a most beautiful creature, 

 enveloped in a soft gray down, swift and nimble and 

 apparently a week or two old, but with no signs of 

 plumage either of body or wing. And it needed none, 

 for it escaped me by taking to the water as readily as if 

 it had flown with wings. 



Hark ! there arises over there in the brush a soft, 

 persuasive cooing, a sound so subtle and wild and un- 

 obtrusive that it requires the most alert and 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 re- 

 sponding. 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 instantly cease, and I search in vain for either 

 parent or young. 



The partridge {Bofiasa umbdlus) is one of our most 

 native and characteristic 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 



