THE RUFFED GROUSE 



your sight and your ears have caught the 

 last flick of his wings against the dry 

 branches. 



In May, his mate sits on her nest, in- 

 distinguishable among the brown leaves 

 and gray branches about her. Later, 

 when surprised with her brood, how con- 

 spicuous she makes herself, fluttering 

 and staggering along the ground, while 

 her callow chicks, old in cunning though 

 so lately their eyes first beheld the world, 

 scatter in every direction like a shattered 

 globule of quicksilver and magically dis- 

 appear where there is no apparent hid- 

 ing-place. Did they con the first lesson 

 of safety in the dark chamber of the egg, 

 or absorb it with the warmth of the 

 brooding breast that gave them life } 



Listen, and out of the silence which 

 follows the noisy dispersion of the family 

 hear the low sibilant voice of the mother 

 calling her children to her or cautioning 

 them to continued hiding. Perhaps you 

 may see her, alertly skulking among the 

 underbrush, still uttering that tender, 

 persuasive cry, so faint that the chirp of 

 a cricket might overbear it. Scatter her 

 brood when the members are half grown 

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