Bob Whites, Grouse, etc. 



being necessary to kill one; for it is capable, even if severely 

 wounded, of carrying away large quantities of lead, and will fly 

 a long distance, probably not dropping until life is extinct. Like 

 the prairie hen and the sharp-tailed grouse, only one bird will 

 flush at a time, the others lying close in concealment. 



Like these birds, too, the sage cock goes through some 

 amusing pre-nuptial performances early in spring. Inflating his 

 large saffron colored air sacs until they rise above his head and 

 all but conceal it, the spring feathers along the edges standing 

 straight out, his pheasant-shaped tail spread like a great, pointed 

 fan, the wings trailing beside him, his breast rubbing the ground 

 until often the feathers are worn threadbare, he moves around 

 the object of his affections with mincing, gingerly steps, while 

 the air escaping from the sacs produces a guttural, purring sound 

 that seems to voice his entire satisfaction with himself. Notwith- 

 standing his protestations of devotion, he leaves his mate to 

 scratch out a nest under some sage bush or in a grass tussock, 

 and here she confines herself very closely — for she is a model 

 mother — for three weeks or more. Knowing how perfectly her 

 feathers conceal her from the sharpest eyes, she remains on the 

 nest until sometimes almost stepped on, and shows the marvel- 

 ously clever tricks of protecting her chicks common to all this 

 highly intelligent clan. It is the coyote that is her deadliest 

 enemy. When the brood is fully able to take care of itself, the 

 neglectful father, that has passed the early summer with other 

 cocks as selfishly indolent as he, for the first time becomes 

 acquainted with his children. 



287 



