A PRAIRIE LIFE. 



HATTIE WASHBURN. 



The hero of my story first saw the light 

 beneath a thick clump of grass on the 

 prairies. His mother, being an old and ex- 

 perienced prairie hen, led him, with 9 other 

 beautiful little balls of brown and yellow 

 down, from the nest when they were only 

 a few hours old. It was a balmy day in 

 May, and many an unwary insect, basking 

 in the genial sunlight, found its way from 

 the bill of the mother down the throats of 

 the young. 



A week passed, and in spite of the par- 

 ent's loving care the number of the brood 

 was reduced to 7. Two strayed in the rank 

 grass and became the prey of a foraging 

 skunk, while a third was borne away in 

 the talons of a hawk. The remaining fledg- 

 lings, their pretty down having given place 

 to a rough coat of feathers, were about to 

 try their wings. This they did suddenly 

 one day, being startled by a pedestrian, and 

 such was the whirring of . their wings that 

 the intruder was in turn much startled. 



Their maiden flight was short, and drop- 

 ping into the long, thick grass they lay 

 securely hidden, while the hen ran on, 

 dragging an apparently broken wing and 

 uttering cackles of maternal concern. 



Having learned this new mode of loco- 

 motion they made longer flights day by day 

 and relieved the mother of her anxiety as 

 to their safety and their food supply. They 

 fed largely on grasshoppers and other in- 

 sects, with the buds and leaves of various 

 plants, until the grain ripened, when they 

 made some inroads on the farmer's crop. 



Thus passed their childhood, with the 

 happy summer, and the grain was in the 

 shock when the cool air of early morning 

 echoed and re-echoed with the report of 

 hunters' guns and dogs ranged throughout 

 the fields. The time during which the game 

 is protected by law had expired but the 

 grouse did not realize this. They only 

 knew that from field to field a fusillade of 

 death and terror ran. 



The family of my hero were among the 

 first to be disturbed. Two were killed on 

 the first rise. The remaining members were 

 frightened from their retreats by the dog 

 and all but 2 found their way into the 

 sportsman's bag. One of these carried a 

 broken wing and a maimed breast to a tuft 

 of coarse grass, there to suffer in solitude 

 until nightfall. Then a wandering coyote 

 succeeded where the dog had failed, and 

 carried the little victim to his den. The 

 chick to which this story particularly re- 

 lates found concealment in a clump of wild 

 sunflowers at the margin of the field. 



Being the last of his family, and soon 

 growing weary of being a lone wanderer, 

 he joined another flock of 50 or more. 

 There, though ignorant of the relationship, 

 he first met his father, who, after the man- 

 ner of pinnated grouse, had shirked all pa- 

 ternal duties and passed the summer with 

 a few other cocks in feasting and idleness. 

 Others joined the pack from time to time 

 and in spite of the ardor of the hunters, 

 they numbered, by the first snowfall, more 

 than 100. 



Thus my hero passed the winter, a mem- 

 ber of a large social circle, who, undisturbed, 

 gathered the scattered grain in the fields, ate 

 rose fruit and weed seeds, and when these 

 were covered by great drifts of snow, even 

 visited the farmers' stacks. When the mat- 

 ing season arrived he chose a young female 

 whose shapely body was beautifully barred 

 with white, buff and brown, and on either 

 side of whose graceful neck were dainty 

 pinnates ; but as she had won the admira- 

 tion of another cock, many and long were 

 the contests which ensued. With many 

 other like combatants he met his rival on 

 the old booming place which their ances- 

 tors had trodden smooth each season for 

 more than 20 years. His lady looked on 

 and joined the other females in their ex- 

 cited cacklings. The intrepid suitor ele- 

 vated his long pinnates, inflated the orange 

 colored sacs on the sides of his neck and 

 uttering a melodious boom, like the low 

 notes of a powerful organ, rushed on his 

 rival. That less daring lover lacked the 

 courage to meet the onset, and bounded into 

 the air, allowing the more valorous combat- 

 ant to pass under him. These sham battles 

 were repeated again and again, and their 

 booming pleasantly broke the early morn- 

 ing stillness and the hush of evening. At 

 last, driven to desperation, his rival met 

 him in close combat, and oblivious of all 

 else they fought long and desperately until 

 the heads and necks of each were covered 

 with wounds and their beautifully barred 

 plumage was stained crimson. At last our 

 hero triumphantly claimed his prize. 



His domestic joys were destined to be of 

 short duration. One day when flying rapid- 

 ly before a gale that swept the prairie, 

 piling the newly cultivated soil in drifts 

 along the grass-grown margin of the fields 

 and filling the air with dust until the noon- 

 day sun was pale, he came in contact with 

 a telegraph wire and died before reaching 

 the ground, many rods beyond, with a deep- 

 ly wounded breast and head and one wing 

 entirely severed from his body. 



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