RUFFED GROUSE; PARTRIDGE 97 



ourselves, — as if it were produced by some little in- 

 sect which had made its way up into the passages of 

 the ear, so penetrating is it. It is as palpable to the 

 ear as the sharpest note of a fife. Of course, that bird 

 can drum with its wings on a log which can go off with 

 such a powerful whir, beating the air. I have seen a 

 thoroughly frightened hen and cockerel fly almost as 

 powerfully, but neither can sustain it long. Beginning 

 slowly and deliberately, the partridge's beat sounds 

 faster and faster from far away under the boughs and 

 through the aisles of the wood until it becomes a regu- 

 lar roll, but is speedily concluded. How many things 

 shall we not see and be and do, when we walk there 

 where the partridge drums! 



June 12, 1853. Going up Pine Hill, disturbed a 

 partridge and her brood. She ran in deshabille directly 

 to me, within four feet, while her young, not larger 

 than a chicken just hatched, dispersed, flying along a 

 foot or two from the ground, just over the bushes, for 

 a rod or two. The mother kept close at hand to attract 

 my attention, and mewed and clucked and made a 

 noise as when a hawk is in sight. She stepped about 

 and held her head above the bushes and clucked just 

 like a hen. What a remarkable instinct that which 

 keeps the young so silent and prevents their peeping 

 and betraying themselves ! The wild bird will run 

 almost any risk to save her young. The young, I be- 

 lieve, make a fine sound at first in dispersing, some- 

 thing like a cherry-bird. 



Nov. 8, 1853. The partridges go off with a whir, 

 and then sail a long way level and low through the 



