SHARP-TAILED GROUSE, SPRUCE GROUSE, 

 AND PTARMIGANS. 



BY WALTER M. WOLFE (" SHOSHOXE "). 



|OME years ago, a party of sportsmen en- 

 camped one evening on the bank of a 

 famous trout- stream in Southern Idaho. 

 For two days they had traveled northward 

 across the desert, wasting ammunition 

 upon sage-hens that were so highly flavored with the rank 

 young shoots of artemisia as to be absolutely unpal- 

 atable, and upon jack-rabbits that were also left to the 

 coyotes; but now they were in game-land, on a grassy 

 plateau, beside clear waters fringed with bear-berries and 

 quaking aspens, and all recollections of dust, fatigue, and 

 thirst were lost in anticipation of the morrow. 



Daylight found us stirring, and, after a cup of coffee, 

 we started, with approved tackle, to woo the speckled 

 trout. Of course guns were left in camp; our dependence 

 was upon rod and rifle. Scarcely had we gone 100 

 yards from the tent, when from the thicket in front 

 of us came a whir, and a flock of grouse arose straight 

 in air, and then glided swiftly away, with so slight a 

 motion of the wings that they seemed propelled by some 

 invisible power. The manner of flight, and the loud 

 "cuk, cuk, cuk," were proofs positive that we had some- 

 thing new in the game line, and, as the birds dropped 

 within 200 yards, it took but a few minutes to get 

 the breech-loaders and reach the spot we had marked. 

 When within twenty yards of them they flushed, and we 



