WOOD NOTES WILD. 93 



lying quite motionless, as is the habit of the young in 

 time of danger. The next morning, when I opened the 

 door of the wood-house, where it had spent the night, 

 instantly it hummed by my head and disappeared. (The 

 partridge has a rapid flight, and no bird surpasses it in 

 swift sailing.) What caused this partridge to seek the 

 nest of the brooding hen at that hour is something of a 

 mystery ; it may have been hotly pursued by an owl. 



But it is of the musical powers of the partridge that 

 I wish to speak. One spring the neighboring children 

 came in companies to see a partridge on her nest close by 

 my barn. The novel sight was highly entertaining, but 

 their eyes opened wider still when they saw and heard 

 the performances of her mate on his favorite log. Dur- 

 ing the time the hen was laying and sitting, he often 

 gave us the " stormy music of his drum." It was small 

 trouble to arrange bushes on a fence near by, so that 

 one could creep up unseen and get a full view of the 

 gallant thunderer perched on a knotty old hemlock log, 

 mossy and half-buried in the ground; and "children 

 of a larger growth," as well as the boys and girls, 

 availed themselves of the opportunity. Of the many 

 who saw him in the act of drumming, I do not recall 

 one who had a correct idea beforehand of the way in 

 which the "partridge thunder" is produced. It was 

 supposed to be made by the striking of the bird's wings 

 either against the log or against his body; whereas it 

 was now plainly to be seen that the performer stood 

 straight up, like a junk bottle, and brought his wings in 

 front of him with quick, strong strokes, smiting nothing 



