132 Next to the Ground 



Sportsmen do not know whether to be grate- 

 ful or grieved over the gift. Though it un- 

 questionably helps to make partridges plenty, 

 it also helps to make the truest-nosed dogs do 

 oftentimes very faulty work. 



When the danger has passed, the covey be- 

 gins calling, faint, shrill, plaintive, no matter 

 what the hour of night. It is the same call, 

 only not so loud, as that which assembles the 

 remnant of a covey scattered by a day's shoot- 

 ing. You hear it then, just at dusk. Birds 

 thoroughly frightened keep silent until the 

 whole world is still. However uttered, the 

 assembly call bring the birds together. If 

 there are even half a dozen left of them, they 

 keep together, but if only two or three, they 

 at once join themselves to a covey still strong. 

 There is no recognized leader, yet in feeding, 

 the formation is somewhat that of wild geese 

 in flight. Running, the covey moves in a 

 long slant following the head bird, very much 

 as sheep follow the bell. Their short, stiff 

 pinions are very strong — strong enough for 

 half-mile flights. Still the birds can run eas- 

 ier than they can fly, and very nearly as fast. 



In wet weather they will not fly, if running 

 is possible. Hence netting. The partridge 

 net is a purse-net, with little hoops inside to 

 hold it open, and long wings upheld by light 

 wooden sticks. The whole affair is dyed the 



