The Ruffed Grouse 363 



are greatly expanded and the bird peers straight ahead absorbedly 

 (figure 104). The performer first tries his drum-sticks before each 

 and every exhibition ! The first one or two of these wing-beats may 

 be quite inaudible even at a distance of only ten or twelve feet, but 

 with the next few succeeding strokes the proper volume is attained, 

 — the instrument is, so to speak, brought into tune, — then follows 

 a short second's pause before the drumming begins in earnest •(^gw^*- 

 ie^*)". Those first beats appear to be partly to reassure the bird 

 that he has plenty of elbow room. It struck me as very much the 

 sort of thing that a man does when he extends his arms a couple 

 of times before he carves a roast or pitches a horseshoe. In fact 

 I have once or twice detected an interrupted motion of the wings 

 at this stage ; there seemed to be a twig in the way or else something 

 wrong with the overlapping of the wing feathers ; — again the sug- 

 gestion of a man giving his arms an extra twitch to adjust an 

 interfering cuff or sleeve before proceeding seriously with the busi- 

 ness in hand. This brings us to another point ; the drumming is 

 quite voluntary and under the bird's control, although the contrary 

 has been suggested. Many times have I seen the drummer pause 

 abruptly in mid-action and " register alarm " until the dog or hawk 

 or other cause of disturbance had passed on. In approaching the 

 drummers under entirely natural conditions the stalker will find 

 them sufficiently keen to hear and see ! Apparently they are alive to 

 the fact that their drumming is an advertisement of their where- 

 abouts to enemies as well as others. However, their manifest 

 alertness notwithstanding, they are perforce rather deaf to ordinary 

 footfalls during the brief accelerated frenzy with which the drum- 

 ming ends. This is the part of the performance for which I early 

 learned to wait while stalking the Grouse without the aid of a 

 blind, or when approaching a blind to which no pathway had been 

 cleared. They are all alert once more as the drumming ends, and 

 pause as though listening for the response or echo (figure d8&) . 



The drumming sound has been too often described to need a 

 lengthy description here. It can be well summed up as a series of 

 dull thumps or "thum"-s, continuing for about a quarter-minute; 

 and while at first separated distinctly (figures 96, 102), they grad- 

 ually and steadily become closer together until they merge in a 

 spasmodic burst of fluttering as the drumming ends (figure 106). 

 Considered by itself, any one of the drummings is very much the 

 same as a hundred others ; the variations are difficult to detect ; cer- 

 tainly there seems to be rather less individuality than for example 

 in the songs of Robins, Orioles or Song Sparrows. 



Everyone familiar with the sound has noticed its ventriloquial 

 quality that makes the whereabouts of the hidden drummer difficult 

 to determine, as to both distance and direction. However, as I 

 found out early in my experience, there is one point at which the 

 sound always loses its ventriloquial disguise if the hearer be suffi- 

 ciently near. In that diminutive tornado previously referred to, 

 with which the drumming ends, the element of elusiveness seems to 

 be wanting. The contrast between this final wild fluttering and the 



