EUFFED GROUSE; PARTRIDGE 99 



against the wind, I was not convinced that they were 

 birds till I had pulled out my glass and deliberately 

 examined them. They sat and stood, three of them, per- 

 fectly still with their heads erect, some darker feathers 

 like ears, methinks, increasing their resemblance to 

 scrabs [sic] , as where a small limb is broken off. I was 

 much surprised at the remarkable stillness they pre- 

 served, instinctively relying on the resemblance to the 

 ground for their protection, i. e. withered grass, dry 

 oak leaves, dead scrags, and broken twigs. I thought 

 at first that it was a dead oak limb with a few stub ends 

 or scrabbs [sic] sticking up, and for some time after I 

 had noted the resemblance to birds, standing only two 

 rods off, I could not be sure of their character on ac- 

 count of their perfect motionlessness, and it was not 

 till I brought my glass to bear on them and saw their 

 eyes distinctly, steadily glaring on me, their necks 

 and every muscle tense with anxiety, that I was con- 

 vinced. At length, on some signal which I did not 

 perceive, they went with a whir, as if shot, off over the 

 bushes. 



Feb. 12, 18t55. I see at Warren's Crossing where, 

 last night perhaps, some partridges rested in this light, 

 dry, deep snow. They must have been almost com- 

 pletely buried. They have left their traces at the bot- 

 tom. They are such holes as would be made by crowding 

 their bodies in backwards, slanting-wise, while perhaps 

 their heads were left out. The dog scared them out of 

 similar holes yesterday in the open orchard. 



Feb. 13, 1855. The tracks of partridges are more 

 remarkable in this snow than usual, it is so light, being 



