134 BIRD STORIES FROM BURROUGHS 



and the young move cautiously in that direction. 

 Let me step never so carefully from my hiding- 

 place, and all sounds instantly cease, and I 

 search in vain for either parent or young. 



The partridge is one of our native and most 

 characteristic birds. The woods seem good to be 

 in where I find him. He gives a habitable air to 

 the forest, and one feels as if the rightful occu- 

 pant were really at home. The woods where I 

 do not find him seem to want something, as if 

 suffering from some neglect of Nature. And 

 then he is such a splendid success, so hardy and 

 vigorous. I think he enjoys the cold and the 

 snow. His wings seem to rustle with more fer- 

 vency in midwinter. If the snow falls very fast, 

 and promises a heavy storm, he will complacently 

 sit down and allow himself to be snowed under. 

 When you approach him at such times, he sud- 

 denly bursts out of the snow at your feet, scat- 

 tering the flakes in all directions, and goes 

 humming away through the woods like a bomb- 

 shell, — a picture of native spirit and success. 



His drum is one of the most welcome and 

 beautiful sounds of spring. Scarcely have the 

 trees expanded their buds, when, in the still April 

 mornings, or toward nightfall, you hear the hum 

 of his devoted wings. He selects, not, as you 

 would predict, a dry and resinous log, but a de- 



