54 THE Aroostook Woops. 


his neck, spread wide his tail, and strut proudly and daintily 
up and down before the admiring pullets. But in the spring- 
time when the snow is all gone and the warm rains have 
washed the trees and branches, the old logs, stumps, rocks and 
mosses, and the thick carpet of leaves upon the ground all 
clean again, and the winter accumulation finds its way to the 
bottom, adding its plant and tree food to the lowest, wet and 
decaying leaves and the rich mold already there, when every 
twig and bud seems smiling with the changes, with the ever- 
greens standing all about, fairly mellow in the sunshine, 
seeming every hour to grow a prettier green, and more 
intensely beautiful with the warmth of the sun that has now 
come with its new power and to stay, bringing all back to 
new life again. Then the partridge drums, and drums as if 
a herald, spreading the glad tidings to all the dwellers of the 
forest. He is wary and watching whilst drumming, and to 
see him at this time, you must creep cautiously and be hidden 
from his view. 
Down in the swamp upon some shaded knoll or a little 
way up the ridge in a thicket of evergreens, here is his own 
favorite drumming log, and no other ‘‘masculinous par- 
trigenus’’ (?) dare approach it. If the log is a dry hollow 
one, it conveys the loud and lively drumming sounds. If wet, 
mossy and decaying only upon the outside, the sounds are less, 
more muffled, and making him appear much farther away 
than he really is. Hark! hear him again? It sounds much as 
if you placed the palm of your hand upon a dry hollow log, 
beating it slowly at first, three or four beats, then increasing, 
quicker and harder for a half moment, then lighter to the end 
of the other half of the moment, and you get some idea of the 
drumming sounds. But he does not beat the log with his 
