FEBRUARY 35 



heather to fish a certain salmon pool in the Helms- 

 dale, when a hen grouse fluttered out at my feet, and 

 scrambled away with a deplorably crippled gait. ' A 

 wounded bird/ I remarked to my gillie, well knowing 

 there could be no brood about in February. No sooner 

 were the words spoken than my boot almost went upon 

 an old cock, which flew out of the heather with a brave 

 cackle; immediately the hen pulled herself together, 

 joined her mate, and both were soon out of view in 

 strong flight across the river. This is the first instance 

 ' I have witnessed of a bird incurring personal risk in 

 order to protect its mate. It will be observed that this 

 devotion was shown by the hen ; I am afraid it would 

 never occur to a cock bird to put himself in jeopardy 

 for his spouse's sake. It is true, however, that the 

 whirring rise of a cock pheasant serves as a warning, 

 albeit involuntary, for his wives to lie low in the presence 

 of danger. 



Talking of cock pheasants, there is one of their habits 

 for which it is exceedingly difficult to imagine any good 

 reason namely, that inveterate one of crowing loudly 

 and repeatedly before going to roost, or, rather, after 

 going to roost, and before going to sleep. The black- 

 bird does the same; and besides these two I cannot 

 recall any British bird which indulges in this foolish 

 custom. Foolish it surely is, for it must be of some 

 importance to every animal to sleep securely, and that 

 might be best ensured by not announcing the exact 

 position of the sleeping place to all prowling creatures. 

 At all events, nearly all wild animals go to bed in 



