PRAIRIE CIIICKEXS PIXXATED GROUSE. 297 



it is practically impossible to obtain shots in the stand- 

 ing corn, the hunter should be patient, and not attempt 

 to hunt them then, but go to some shady place, provide 

 his dog with cooling water, and patiently wait till even- 

 ing; then he will be refreshed and rested, while his dog 

 will be as fresh as in the morning, and filled with new 

 life. 



When evening is approaching, then is the time when 

 the hunter revels in this exciting sport; for the birds 

 leave the grass and corn, and travel back to the 

 stubble-fields, where they go to roost, and lie better for 

 the dog at this than any other time. At such times as 

 these, the hunter shoots at them until dark, then regrets 

 that daylight "didn't last just a little longer." 



My dear old friend, Mr. Isaac McLellan, who is now 

 eighty-three years of age, on my writing him that in this 

 book I would treat the subject "Prairie Chickens," said 

 that many years ago he had visited the prairies of the Great 

 West, and had participated in many pleasant hunts after 

 prairie chickens, and he promised to write me a poem 

 descriptive of this fascinating sport. He kindly did 

 so, and wrote for me the following beautiful lines, so 

 realistically descriptive of the habits of the birds and 

 the season when they are hunted. To one who has 

 breathed the pure air of our Western prairies in the 

 glorious autumn-time, these lines will recall most pleasant 

 memories of days delightfully spent in pursuit of 

 pinnated grouse: 



Now autumn is flushed with tarnished gold, 



The woodlands shine with prismy dyes, 

 The oak-trees flutter their yellow leaves, 



Resplendent clouds sail thro' the skies; 

 The leaf of the elm shows dusky brown, 



The maples with scarlet bonnets blaze, 

 The withered grass, over prairie plain, 



Shines thin and crisp in these autumn days. 



