A Day on Bear Brook. 



he was turning the creek bend. The feathers flew and so did 

 the bird apparently none the worse for leaving a part of his 

 new winter suit with me. Queen retrieved the dead bird and 

 then stood wagging her tail, waiting for further orders. It was 

 nearly noon, and the cool, sparkling waters of the spring that 

 bubbled up from under the roots of the old elm suggested 

 lunch time. From the side pocket of the old duck coat I dis- 

 interred the tin lunch-box and the folding drinking cup, and 

 we went to work to try and satisfy the inner man and the inner 

 dog. 



I lounged around on the sunny bank for an hour or more 

 after lunch, trying to decide whether to go back down-stream 

 or hunt up to the head of the creek and across through Seeley 

 Wood towards home. On the latter route I was almost sure to 

 pick up a few gray squirrels, if I failed to get any more 

 pheasants. Besides, as another inducement, there was an old 

 cock pheasant at the head of the brook, that I had flushed sev- 

 eral times during the fall without being able to get a feather 

 from his glossy coat. This was likely to be my last hunt of the 

 season and I wanted one more chance at him. I sent Queen 

 in ahead and we worked cautiously forward ; but found noth- 

 ing until we reached the head of the brook. Here there was a 

 large tract of wet, springy ground, with many little rivulets 

 a foot or so wide flowing through it to the main brook. The 

 place was thickly covered with alders and willows, with a net- 

 work of vines running all over them one of the likeliest places 

 in the world for grouse and this was the home of our wary 

 old cock of the wood. On all former occasions when calling on 

 him he had been so unmannerly as to bolt out the back way 

 while I was knocking at the front. In order to defeat this 

 move of his, I adopted different tactics. I sent Queen in the 

 front way and took a position on the north side of the thicket 

 near an opening he would have to cross in the line of flight 

 formerly taken when flushed from his home cover. The ground 

 was wet where Queen was working and I could hear her pat- 

 tering in the water as she neared the middle of the thicket. 



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