WHITE-TAILED. PTARMIGAN 203 
crouch behind them; or, if they alight on a snow bank, 
they quickly scratch out for themselves a little cavity 
in the snow, large and deep enough to contain the 
body, so that the wind blows over them. 
On the other hand, in Montana, among the high 
mountains of the Saint Mary’s region, where hunters 
and mountain climbers are often seen, these birds are 
sometimes quite wild, rising at a considerable dis- 
tance with a loud cackle, and flying a quarter of a 
mile to alight again on some prominent rock, upon 
which they run about with tail erect and head thrown 
back, cackling in alarm, and ready at an instant’s no- 
tice to take to wing again and fly still farther. It is 
only in this region that I have pursued them with a 
shotgun, and here they are as quick on the wing and 
as hard to hit as any of the grouse. Sometimes, when 
following scattered birds along the rough mountain- 
side, they would pitch down past me from the rocks 
on which they had perched, with a flight not less rapid 
than that of the New England ruffed grouse, as he 
darts down from the top of some pine tree in which 
he has hidden himself. 
Two or three years ago, Joseph Kipp, of Montana, 
while crossing from the west to the east side of the 
range, through the Belly River Pass, in July, came 
upon a brood of half-grown ptarmigan. The mother 
attacked him vigorously, and was so persistent that 
he caught her and several of the young, and carried 
them with him for half a day, when he let them go 
again, because he had nothing which they could eat. 
