THE RUFFED GROUSE 37 
the bird will fly straight down to the bottom and 
when out of sight turn sharply to one side for 
another hundred yards. 
If I may have but one month for partridge 
shooting give me November. Lowery skies, the 
threat of a storm in the chill air, when the birds 
are putting in provisions for the days of hun- 
ger which a snowstorm makes; or the first 
bright day after the storm has passed and the 
birds have come out on the sunny spots to bask 
in the warmth they now appreciate. I shall 
ever hold one old hill in warm remembrance for 
many days of glorious sport along its rocky 
spurs. A high, gray ledge, pine- and hemlock- 
covered on the crown and base, its slopes clad 
with sumac, blackberry bushes, wild rose 
bushes, scattered scrub pines and small birches, 
the naked rocks half buried in the junipers, and 
a few lordly chestnut trees towering over all. 
My last day of the season as a sample of many: 
two days of rain and sleet, cold and miserable, 
and on the third day the storm breaking and 
the afternoon sun flooding the hillsides. From 
a sense of duty I had hunted the alder coverts 
and the thick growths which had sheltered them 
on other days, where a few difficult shots had 
