DRUMMER 211 



ehestnut oak and the white oak, strawberries, blueberries, 

 raspberries, elderberries, wintergreen and partridge berries 

 with their foliage, cranberries, the bright fruit of the black 

 alder and dogwood, sumach berries (including the poison- 

 ous varieties, which do the grouse no injury), wild grapes, 

 grain dropped in the stubble of harvested fields, the f oKage 

 of many plants, and the leaf buds of numerous shrubs and 

 trees — a varied menu, indeed, responsible alike for the bird's 

 luscious, tender flesh and its roving disposition. 



Bob-white and ruffed grouse are the fife and drum corps 

 of the woods. That some birds are wonderful musicians 

 everybody knows, and only the bird orchestra contains a 

 member who can drum without a drum. Even that 

 famous drummer, the woodpecker, needs a dead, dry, 

 resonant, hardwood limb to tap on before he can produce 

 his best effects. How does the grouse beat his deep, 

 muffled, thump, thump, thumping, rolling tattoo.'' Some 

 scientists have staked their reputation on the claim that 

 they have seen him drum by rapidly striking his wings 

 against the sides of his body ; but other later-day scientists, 

 who contend that he beats only the air when his wings 

 vibrate so fast that the sight cannot quite follow them, are 

 undoubtedly right. 



On a fallen log, a stump, a rail fence or a wall, that may 

 have been used as a drumming stand for many years, the 

 male grouse will strut with a jerking, dandified gait, puff 

 out his feathers, ruff his neck frills, raise and spread his 

 fan-shaped tail like a turkey cock, blow out his cheeks and 

 neck, then suddenly halt and begin to beat his wings. 

 After a few slow, measured thumps, the stiff, strong wings 

 whir faster and faster, until there is only a blm: where they 

 vibrate. This is the grouse's love song that summons a 



