THE RUFFED GROUS 33 



through the brushy screen at the sound of their 

 wings — pull trigger at the glimmer of a feather, 

 or through the leaves where the bird may be — 

 taking every chance, however slight, to bring 

 this game to bag. I think all "brush gunners" 

 will agree that this is not the easiest bird to hit 

 when once on the wing — a mere flash of quick- 

 moving, roaring wings, and a glimmer of sun- 

 light on his russet-brown back — gone! Per- 

 haps the cunning rascal marked where you 

 stood and ran swiftly to get a thick hemlock be- 

 tween himself and your gun, then a leap into 

 the air, an arrowy flight, and when you have 

 hurried to one side to get a sight at him he is 

 two gunshots away. 



"Don't they ever give you a sitting shot?" 

 0, yes ! When you are tangled up on the points 

 of a wire fence, with one barb stuck into the 

 middle of your back just where it cannot be 

 reached with either hand, and another induce- 

 ment to profanity has a grip on the leg of your 

 trousers, — at such times a grouse will often 

 "flap" lazily from the ground into a tree right 

 over your back and perch where you can see 

 him only by twisting your neck almost off, but 

 shoot! 0, no! There he will sit and criticise 



