HIDDEN TREASURE 89 
which comes in late April or early May and sings 
all through the woods the best example of a cre- 
scendo song in all bird-music. His nest on the ground 
usually has a domed overhanging roof which makes 
it resemble an old-fashioned Dutch oven. 
In spite of my ignorance there followed the hap- 
piest week of my life. I forgot that I was an invalid, 
as well as all the injunctions of my doctor. From 
morning until night I hunted birds’ nests. As usual 
fortune favored the novice, and I found nests that 
first week which I have found but few times since. 
The very next morning, on the other side of Pond 
Hill I turned a sudden corner of the path through 
the dim green silence, and stepped right into a 
breakfast-party. Mrs. Ruffed Grouse, known in 
that part of the country as partridge, was breakfast- 
ing in the open path with at least a dozen little 
grouse — or is it greese. Although taken by surprise, 
neither she nor her children hesitated for the fraction 
of a second. Falling upon the ground, she rolled and 
flapped as if in the last agonies of death, whining 
like a puppy and dragging herself almost to my feet. 
I looked away from the covey for a minute, to watch 
the bird struggling and whining at my very feet. 
As I stretched my hand out toward her, she feebly 
flopped away, still apparently well within reach. 
I took a step or so after her, to see if she would really 
permit herself to be caught. Suddenly realizing 
that she was only decoying me away from her brood, 
I turned back. Although I had gone less than six 
feet, and the little birds had been huddled together 
