408 THE PRAIRIE CHICKEN, OR SHARPTAILED GROUSE. 



During the dance, the males strut as do most gallinaceous birds, 

 with feathers all erect, the wings spread (not touching the ground), 

 tail spread and upright, the head nearly touching the ground, the 

 sacs on the neck inflated and displayed to their utmost ; thus the 

 bird runs a few yards uttering a sort of bubbling crow, which 

 sounds as if it came from the air-sacs ; after this they relax for a 

 few moments, then repeat the performance ad lib. When disturbed 

 they immediately take wing and scatter (not hide in the grass 

 (Wilson), uttering as they rise a peculiar vibratory " cack," " cack,'' 

 " cack," almost like a cough. This is nearly always uttered simul- 

 taneously with the beats of the wings, and so rarely heard except 

 then that I at first supposed that it was caused by them, but since 

 have heard the sound both when the bird was sailing and on the 

 ground, besides seeing it whirr up without the note. They have 

 also a peculiar call note, a whistle of three slurred notes. In the 

 fall their common note is a sort of whistling grunt, which is joined 

 in by the pack as they fly. The " crow" is heard only in spring, 

 the grunt only in fall, but the cackle and the whistle always. 



Their flight is very strong and rapid, so much so that they can in 

 winter escape by flight from the white owl. When sprung they rise 

 with a loud whirr, beating rapidly but soon sail, flying and sailing 

 alternately every fifty or one hundred yards. 



The hen nests in the long grass tangle, generally near cover or on 

 the edge of timber. The nest is a slight hollow arched over by the 

 grass, lined only with a few straws. She lays eight to sixteen eggs 

 no larger than those of a pigeon. Just before being laid they ai'e of 

 a delicate sky-blue, on exposure they soon become a deep chocolate 

 with a few dark spots. In a fortnight they are gradually changed 

 to a dirty white, partly by bleaching, partly by the scratching of the 

 mother's bill in turning them. Common as addled or infertile eggs 

 are in the barnyard, I never in nature found more than one, and 

 that was of the present species. I found the nest in June ; it had 

 eight eggs (less than the complement) ; I left it untouched, and 

 some weeks after returned to find all had hatched but one ; this, on 

 inspection, proved to be non- fertile. Assuming that they really and 

 faithfully pair, it is accountable by supposing that the male was 

 killed and the female laid her last egg unimpregnated and carried 

 out her duties alone. 



