IN THE HEMLOCKS. 75 



from me, and, scattering, disappear in the bushes on 

 all sides. Let me sit down here behind the screen 

 of ferns and briers, and hear this wild-hen of the 

 woods call together her brood. At what an early 

 age the partridge flies ! Nature seems to concen- 

 trate her energies on the wing, making the safety of 

 the bird a point to be looked after first; and while 

 the body is covered with down, and no signs of feath- 

 ers are visible, the wing-quills sprout and unfold, and 

 in an incredibly short time the young make fair head- 

 way 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 sandpiper, a most beautiful 

 creature, enveloped in a soft gray down, swift and 

 nimble and apparently a week or two old, but with 

 QO signs of plumage either of body or wing. And 

 it needed none, for it escaped me by taking to the 

 skater as readily a* 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- 

 jbtrusive that it requires the most alert and watchful 

 jar to hear it. How gentle and solicitous and full of 

 reaming 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 responding. As no danger seems near, the 

 sooing of the parent bird is soon a very audible 



