404. AMERICAN GAME BIRD SHOOTING 
of coveys, that arrive from all quarters, coming some- 
times from a distance of miles to this favored spot. 
One may frequently see some belated party string 
across his path as he tramps along just after sunset. 
Silent as owls, they flit past on outspread wings, and 
vanish in the gloom. 
The shooting among the standing corn is, to me, the 
most exciting of any of the methods pursued in hunting 
this fine bird... . 
It is early in the forenoon, and I will see if I can- 
not find some of the birds I saw enter that eighty-acre 
piece a while ago. 
We are presently in the thick of it, and save for the 
rustling leaves on the tall stalks which rise above our 
heads it is very still. The chickens are running, as 
I see by the trailing of my dog, and it is necessary to 
step out briskly in order to keep him in view. There! 
He has struck a hot scent! Hear how his tail is beat- 
ing a tattoo on the stalks as he worms his way along, 
crouching close to the ground in his eagerness to locate 
the birds. At last, with head almost at right angles 
with his body, he stands rigid. 
There they go. A dozen chickens whizz up through 
the corn about us. I catch a glimpse of one just as 
he clears himself, and pull on him almost without 
sighting. Crash! thud! Down he comes, and quickly 
I have him in hand, a fine young bird, as I find by hold- 
ing him up so that his whole weight falls on the under 
mandible, which breaks under the strain. The differ- 
ence in plumage of these full-grown birds is very slight, 
