404 AMERICAN GAME BIRD SHOOTING 



of coveys, that arrive from all quarters, coming some- 

 times from a distance of miles to this favored spot. 

 One may frequently see some belated party string 

 across his path as he tramps along just after sunset. 

 Silent as owls, they flit past on outspread wings, and 

 vanish in the gloom. 



The shooting among the standing corn is, to me, the 

 most exciting of any of the methods pursued in hunting 

 this fine bird. . . . 



It is early in the forenoon, and I will see if I can- 

 not find some of the birds I saw enter that eighty-acre 

 piece a while ago. 



We are presently in the thick of it, and save for the 

 rustling leaves on the tall stalks which rise above our 

 heads it is very still. The chickens are running, as 

 I see by the trailing of my dog, and it is necessary to 

 step out briskly in order to keep him in view. There ! 

 He has struck a hot scent ! Hear how his tail is beat- 

 ing a tattoo on the stalks as he worms his way along, 

 crouching close to the ground in his eagerness to locate 

 the birds. At last, with head almost at right angles 

 with his body, he stands rigid. 



There they go. A dozen chickens whizz up through 

 the corn about us. I catch a glimpse of one just as 

 he clears himself, and pull on him almost without 

 sighting. Crash ! thud ! Down he comes, and quickly 

 I have him in hand, a fine young bird, as I find by hold- 

 ing him up so that his whole weight falls on the under 

 mandible, which breaks under the strain. The differ- 

 ence in plumage of these full-grown birds is very slight, 



