Where Town and Country Meet 



dusting itself in the sun. A pretty sight it 

 must have been the large, grayish bird, 

 with its alert, trim head and bright eyes 

 always watchful, tossing the dust with vig- 

 orous flirts of the wing far up over its back, 

 and nestling and shifting round and round in 

 the warm hollow. I have seen hundreds of 

 such dusting-holes in my rambles through 

 the woods, but only once have I beheld a 

 ruffed grouse actually dusting itself as I 

 have described. It was at noon of a hot 

 September day, and I was lying in the shade 

 beside the wood-path, when the cautious bird 

 stole out for its midday bath. It was a hen 

 grouse, trim in body and graceful and quick 

 in every movement. I lay motionless, watch- 

 ing her, for nearly fifteen minutes. Then a 

 dog barked at the foot of the ridge, and the 

 grouse was gone in an instant, leaving a few 

 soft feathers swirling down into the dust. 

 How large a part of the life and interest 

 of the woods centers in the birds ! Every 

 true nature-lover speaks of them first and 

 chiefly when describing his outdoor ram- 

 bles. Yet there are other creatures and 

 things that win the attention of a rambler 

 by the autumn wood-path. He notes the 

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