THE SAGE GROUSE. 
There are several other goat licks or 
sheep licks in the Canadian Rockies, but 
none I have heard of are so large, nor have 
any been used to such an extent as this 
177 
one has. The Canadian Government should 
enact a law prohibiting the killing of any 
goat or sheep, elk or deer within 2 miles 
of any salt lick. 
THE-SAGE ‘GROUSE. 
CHARLES 
My first acquaintance with the sage 
grouse, Centrocercus urophasianus, was in 
the early spring of 83, when on a visit to 
the Big Bend of the Columbia. In my 
youthful verdancy I mistook these birds for 
turkeys strayed from some _ farmhouse. 
Where the farmhouse was, I had not paused 
to ask myself. In all that immense plateau 
there was only one human habitation. Wild 
Goose Bill, a squaw man, held dominion 
over the whole country, a region that is now 
one great wheat field. The grouse were 
sitting beneath the sage brush lining the 
dim wagon trail, and with my new Fox gun 
I slew one, congratulating myself that we 
should have fresh meat for supper. We 
had it, but somehow we did not enjoy it 
as I had expected. They say it is all right 
when you get used to it, but it takes any- 
body except a Siwash a long time to get 
used to it. 
When the spring sun has brought new 
life to the sleeping vegetation, Mr. Sage 
Grouse dons his courting garments, tunes 
his lyre, and goes forth to seek a mate. He 
usually finds one, for it has been my obser- 
vation that the softer sex are within hail- 
ing distance whenever there is any wooing 
on hand. Having made his advances and 
been accepted, the twain repair to some ele- 
vated spot, bare of vegetation, that, during 
the nesting season, is used as a trysting 
place. There, at early morning, and late 
evening, the ardent swain, with wings 
spread, tail and head erect, struts to and 
fro before his demure dame, all the while 
giving vent to a series of gutturals that 
may be particularly fetching to the object 
of his amours, but are anything but har- 
mony judged by human standards. How 
long this performance is continued I am un- 
able to say; probably, however, throughout 
the laying time and until the mother bird 
takes up the task of incubation. 
The nesting site is some swale grown 
with rye grass, or some hillside underneath 
a large sage. There are laid 8 to 10 beau- 
tiful, dark brown eggs, deeply mottled and 
streaked with black. The nest is a mere 
depression in the light, alkali soil. The 
S. MOODY. 
period of incubation corresponds to that 
of the other Galline, that is, about 21 days. 
When the little downy, cream colored 
chicks first make their appearance they re- 
semble those of the domestic hen; and like 
the hen, the mother bird is extremely solici- 
tous for their welfare. So intrepid is she 
in their defense that she has been known 
to beat off a great barred owl which was 
seeking a young grouse for dinner. 
It has been suggested, owing to the fact 
that these birds inhabit the dry, arid plains 
of our Northwest, that they do not drink. 
Such is not the case. When the country 
was new and unsettled, at evening the 
hunter could see thousands of them wing- 
ing their way to some distant spring. Visit 
the springs, of which there were a few, and 
the noise of the wings was as distant thun- 
der, as the birds rose in myriads. 
Late in the fall, after the winter winds 
have begun to blow, the male bird who has 
spent the summer with some of his cronies 
boasting about the size and excellency of 
his brood, a habit he probably learned from 
some human fathers I know, rejoins his 
flock. Together they seek a sheltered val- 
ley, where their winter food of sage grows, 
and there pass the cold months. It is the 
sage that gives them a taste like concen- 
trated sausage seasoning. 
The sage grouse is an unwary bird. It 
can be approached within a few rods. These 
birds possess a curiosity akin to that of the 
antelope, which impels them to investi- 
gate anything new. Once on the wing, 
however, their flight is graceful and swift, 
much like that of an English pheasant. 
When a sage grouse starts for the next 
county it takes a good marksman to bring 
him down. I deeply regret that pot hunt- 
ers have been permitted to slaughter this 
magnificent bird, so little fit for the table 
yet so picturesque a figure in the landscape. 
In a few more years the lover of Nature 
will be compelled to visit some museum of 
natural history or some zoological garden 
for a sight of the birds that were once door- 
yard visitors at every ranch on the Western 
plains. 
