IN THE CATSKILLS 



a little grassy lane, golden with buttercups or white 

 with daisies, or wading waist-deep hi the red rasp- 

 berry-bushes. 



Whir! whir! whir! and a brood of half -grown 

 partridges start up like an explosion, a few paces 

 from me, and, scattering, disappear in the bushes 

 on all sides. Let me sit down here behind the 

 screen of ferns and briers, and hear this wild hen 

 of the woods call together her brood. At what an 

 early age the partridge flies ! Nature seems to con- 

 centrate her energies on the wing, making the 

 safety of the bird a point to be looked after first; 

 and while the body is covered with down, and no 

 signs of feathers are visible, the wing-quills sprout 

 and unfold, and in an incredibly short time the 

 young make fair headway in flying. 



The same rapid development of wing may be 

 observed in chickens and turkeys, but not in water- 

 fowls, nor in birds that are safely housed in the 

 nest till full-fledged. The other day, by a brook, 

 I came suddenly upon a young sandpiper, a most 

 beautiful creature, enveloped in a soft gray down, 

 swift and nimble and apparently a week or two old, 

 but with no signs of plumage either of body or 

 wing. And it needed none, for it escaped me by 

 taking to the water as readily as if it had flown 

 with wings. 



Hark ! there arises over there in the brush a soft, 

 persuasive cooing, a sound so subtle and wild and 

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