94 THE PINNATED GROUSE. 



the Barrens for the first time in the early clays of June, and as I entered 

 them from the skirts of an immense forest, I was surprised at the beauty of 

 the prospect before me. Flowers without number, and vying with each 

 other in their beautiful tints, sprung up amidst the luxuriant grass; the fields, 

 the orchards, and the gardens of the settlers, presented an appearance of 

 plenty, scarcely any where exceeded; the wild fruit-trees, having their 

 branches interlaced with grape-vines, promised a rich harvest; and at every 

 step I trod on ripe and fragrant strawberries. When I looked around, an 

 oak knob rose here and there before me, a charming grove embellished a 

 valley, gently sloping hills stretched out into the distance, while at hand 

 the dark entrance of some cavern attracted my notice, or a bubbling spring 

 gushing forth at my feet seemed to invite me to rest and refresh myself 

 with its cooling waters. The timid deer snuffed the air, as it gracefully 

 bounded off, the Wild Turkey led her young ones in silence among the tall 

 herbage, and the bees bounded from flower to blossom. If I struck the stiff 

 foliage of a black-jack oak, or rustled among the sumachs and brambles, 

 perchance there fluttered before me in dismay the frightened Grouse and 

 her cowering brood. The weather was extremely beautiful, and I thought 

 that the Barrens must have been the parts from which Kentucky derived 

 her name of the "Garden of the West!" 



There it was, that, year after year, and each successive season, I studied 

 the habits of the Pinnated Grouse. It was there that, before sunrise, or at 

 the close of day, I heard its curious boomings, witnessed its obstinate battles, 

 watched it during the progress of its courtships, noted its nest and eggs, and 

 followed its young until, fully grown, they betook themselves to their 

 winter quarters. 



When I first removed to Kentucky, the Pinnated Grouse were so 

 abundant, that they were held in no higher estimation as food than the most 

 common flesh, and no "hunter of Kentucky" deigned to shoot them. They 

 were, in fact, looked upon with more abhorrence than the Crows are at 

 present in Massachusetts and Maine, on account of the mischief they 

 committed among the fruit trees of the orchards during winter, when they 

 fed on their buds, or while in the spring months they picked up the grain in 

 the fields. The farmer's children, or those of his negroes, were employed to 

 drive them away with rattles from morning to night, and also caught them 

 in pens and traps of various kinds. In those days, during the winter, the 

 Grouse would enter the farm-yard and feed with the poultry, alight on the 

 houses, or walk in the very streets of the villages. I recollect having caught 

 several in a stable at Henderson, where they had followed some Wild 

 Turkeys. In the course of the same winter, a friend of mine, who was fond 

 of practising rifle-shooting, killed upwards of forty in one morning, but 



