90 LIFE HISTORIES OF NORTH AMERICAN BIRDS. 



timid maidens seem to say, as they cast side glances at them, full of admira- 

 tion and of love. 



"Then it is that the proud cock, in order to complete his triumph, will rush 

 forward at his best speed for two or three rods through the midst of the love- 

 sick damsels, pouring out as he goes a booming noise, almost a hoarse roar, 

 only more subdued, which may be heard for at least 2 miles in the still morn- 

 ing air. This heavy booming sound is by no means harsh or unpleasant; on 

 the contrary, it is soft and even harmonious. When standing in the open prairie 

 at early dawn listening to hundreds of different voices, pitched on differ- 

 ent keys, coming from every direction and from various distances, the listener 

 is rather soothed than excited. If this sound is heavier than the deep key 

 notes of a large organ, it is much softer, though vastly more powerful, and 

 may be heard at a much greater distance. One who has heard such a concert 

 can never after mistake or forget it. 



" Every few minutes this display is repeated. I have seen not only one, 

 but more than twenty cocks going through this funny operation at once, but 

 then they seem careful not to run against each other, for they have not yet got 

 to the fighting point. After a little while the lady birds begin to show an 

 interest in the proceedings by moving about quickly a few yards at a time, 

 and then standing still a short time. When these actions are continued by a 

 large number of birds at a time, it presents a funny sight, and you can easily 

 think they are moving to the measure of music. 



"The party breaks up when the sun is half an hour high, to be repeated 

 the next morning and every morning for a week or two before all make satis- 

 factory matches. It is toward the latter part of the love season that the 

 fighting takes place among the cocks, probably by two who have fallen in 

 love with the same sweetheart, whose modesty prevents her from selecting 

 between them." 1 



Nesting follows quickly after the birds are once paired, but as a rule they 

 seem to show very poor judgment in the selection of the sites. Immense 

 numbers of nests are annually destroyed, either by fire in dry seasons or water 

 during wet ones, not taking the many other enemies into consideration at all, 

 and it is safe to compute the loss of eggs alone, from the first two mentioned 

 causes, at 50 per cent. Many nests with eggs are also yearly plowed up. 



On the prairies they generally select unburnt places to nest in, where the 

 old grass is thick; others prefer the borders of large marshes, where, during a 

 wet season, they are almost certain to be destroyed by water. The nest is 

 simply a slight excavation, alongside of some slough, in a fence corner among 

 tall grass or a clump of weeds, or in cultivated fields or meadows, and again on 

 open prairies, where the grass is very short. If there is plenty of material at 

 hand the nest is often quite thickly lined, but on burned prairie very little 

 lining is used, as no effort is made by the hen to bring material from a distance. 

 Apparently no particular attempt is made to conceal the nest; the bird sits so 



1 Forest and Stream, March 29, 1883, p. 165. 



