114 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Feb. 8, 1896. 
A TAME RUFFED GROUSE. 
Beedes, N. Y., Jan. 28. — In your paper of May 11, 
1895, is an article on "A Grouse in a House," and if you 
will allow me space I would like to speak of a grouse here 
called very tame by many persons who have seen him. 
Within 250ft. of the house I live in, and not over 100ft. 
from a barn occupied every day, on the property of the 
Adirondack Mountain Reserve, is a log on which a ruffed 
grouse has drummed for the last eight years. I desire to 
have the opinion of some of the readers of Forest and 
Stream on the age of the grouse, or rather, how long any 
have been known to live if left to die a natural death. It 
is possible — and seems quite probable to me — that the log 
I speak of has been used by one and the same bird for the 
time above stated. I have had rare opportunities to 
observe this bird's habits, and have seen and heard him 
do the drumming act hundreds of times. He is so tame 
that one may stand within 50ft. of the log, in plain sight, 
and it will not disturb him at all. A parson can walk 
quite close to this bird before he will leave his log, and 
he has been photographed several times. I have seen 
him drum in every month of the year except July and 
August. In the spring he is more active than at any 
other time, and when the moon was full and giving clear 
light I have known him to keep up his drumming until 
midnight, after having been at it all day. I have brushed 
the snow from a spot on his log in January, February 
and March, and he would find it bare and use it. 
Some people claim — even those who are deemed good 
authority on the habits of our Northern and Eastern birds 
have written — that a grouse walks or struts when he 
drums and beats his wings against the log or sides of his 
body. The bird I speak of was never known to do this. 
In drum min g he stands erect— so straight that his tail 
feathers touch the log— and does not move his feet. His 
feathers are thrown out or ruffled, especially about the 
neck and breast, before a sound is heard. Then the wings, 
thrown slightly forward and up, move slowly at first, are 
raised higher and more to the front as the beats increase 
in force and velocity, and his wing motions end in very 
rapid rolling beats. So far as I could ever Bee, the wings 
do not touch each other, or anything else but air, and the 
sound produced, in my opinion, is concussion. At each 
stroke of the wings a vacuum is made, and the air rushing 
in makes the noise heard. A peculiar thing about this 
drumming is that it sounds as loud to one when quite a 
long distance from the bird as it does when no more than 
20ft. away. 
I have also watched this bird during the mating sea- 
son — when he was conducting his courtship — with a hen 
grouse near at hand. On such occasions the female seems 
indifferent to the charms of the male; but he, on the other 
hand, is most earnest and persevering in his devotions, 
and appears smitten beyond cure. To win in this contest 
the male uses no words or force, but depends wholly on 
his looks — his form and show of plumage. 
At one time, in May, I watched a pair of these birds 
for an hour and a half, and during all that time the grit 
and patience shown by the male bird were something re- 
markable. This was near the drumming log above re- 
ferred to, and it was without doubt the "tame grouse" I 
was watching. The female was in a tree about 15ft. from 
the ground and spent the time in oiling and dressing her 
feathers. Apparently she did not regard the close atten- 
tion her faithful admirer was giving just below, under 
the tree she was in. From her actions one could not 
judge that she knew a male bird was within a mile of her. 
I sat on the ground, with both birds within 30ft. of me, 
and had a plain view of all that took place. The male 
bird stood perfectly still during the whole time— ninety 
minutes — with his eyes looking toward the object of his 
affections. He stood erect, with his tail feathers spread 
wide, his wings out from his body a little, and drooping 
so that the outer plumes touched the earth, and his neck 
and body feathers all ruffled out. He did not take one 
step, nor move his head or body at all, except to shake 
himself twice, as he was getting wet. A shower of rain 
came up and I left the scene. Evidently the male did not 
like to have his plumage get wet, as it would detract from 
his good looks. He shook the raindrops off his head and 
back twice, and these were the only Bigns of life he 
showed during the period I watched him. When I left 
him he stood there motionless, with the rain pelting down 
on his gay attire. Whether he won his suit I never knew, 
though it is fair to presume that such fortitude in love 
would meet with success in the end. 
I would like to hear from some of your readers who are 
familiar with the habits of the grouse, and to know if 
their observations compare with mine on the age and 
tameness of the bird, and on the question of how he 
drums and acts when choosing a mate. 
W. Scott Brown. 
Another Captive Grouse. 
Lockport, N. Y., Jan. 30. — A Mr. Miles, of the town of 
Wilson, this county, has a grouse in his barn that came in 
with the hens last October, and is now so tame that it 
feeds regularly with thefowls; while it will not allow one to 
handle it, you can walk around it the same as you would 
the hens. I understand that the party expects to cross it 
with a bantam in the spring. I hardly think he will suc- 
ceed in that, but will watch the outcome, and if it is a 
success will report through these columns. 
J. L. Davison. 
A Caged Grouse. 
Gloversville, N. Y., Dec. 7.— Editor Forest and 
Stream: As there has been considerable discussion in the 
Forest and Stream of late in regard to the peculiarities 
of the ruffed grouse, and as it is generally believed that 
they do not thrive well in captivity, I will endeavor to 
disprove that theory by noting a circumstance which 
came under my own observation. 
William McLaughlin, a farmer living about two miles 
north of this city, has a cook grouse which came into his 
possession under rather peculiar circumstances. About 
sunset, one cold October day in 1890, as Mr. McLaughlin 
was going toward his barn, his attention was attracted by 
the flight of a bird through the stable door, and on closing 
the door he discovered a "parfcridge." After capturing 
the bird he placed it in a large cage, where it haja , 
remained most of the time since. It is quite tame, feed- 
ing from one's hand even though he be a stranger, and 
will eat almost anything given it, including all kinds of 
grain, as well as cooked potatoes and crumbs from the 
tabl«. It is a most voracious feeder, and is very fond of 
the berries from the mountain ash; Mr. McLaughlin has 
several ash trees in his yard. It has never been sick a 
day since its captivity, and is the family pet. J. E. G. 
A Nuthatch's Device. 
Providence, R. I., Jan. 26.— Editor Forest and Stream: 
While out walking this afternoon I found five pigeon 
woodpeckers in some oak trees; also saw a number of 
crows flying over. Among the bushes in an old fence 
corner tree song sparrows were busy turning over 
dead leaves looking for food. I know that the sparrows 
pass the winter with us, and think that the woodpeckers 
do also, as I have seen one or two for the past three win- 
ters. Once, while passing through the grove across the 
street from my house, the note of a nuthatch caught my 
ear. Looking up, I saw that he had an acorn or nut in 
his beak. He flew to the dead limb of an oak, on which 
was a decayed knot. In this he dropped his prize and 
hammered at it vigorously, occasionally getting a morsel 
which he ate with relish. Upon my throwing a stick he 
flew to a limb a few feet higher up, keeping one eye on 
me and the other on his supper, all the while protesting 
by a series of "hanks." He then flew to another tree 
and seemed in no haste to return to the nut, so I went 
into the house and left him. The next morning I climbed 
up and sawed the limb off to find what kind of a nut he 
had, but it was gone. The knot was hollow and of an in- 
verted cone shape, thus making an excellent place in 
which a bird might hold a nut to crack. It may have 
been instinct or luck that prompted this nuthatch to use a 
knot hole for his vise, but it looks like brains. 
Nuthatch. 
A Feathered Progidy. 
Lockport, N. Y, Jan. 30. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
Yesterday I received the following letter: Flushing, 
Mich., Jan. 28. — J, L. Davison, Esq.: Dear Sir — I have 
just purchased an American bald eagle which I will dis- 
pose of at a reasonable figure. I thought you might want 
it yourself. If not will you kindly help me sell it? It 
weighs about 35] bs. and measures 17ft. from tip to tip, and 
is a very fine specimen according to the cyclopedia. 
Now, Mr. Davison, I thought the bird was probably worth 
$25. Please give me your views at once and oblige 
J. W. Dysinger. 
I wrote Mr. Dysinger at once that if he had a bird that 
weighed 351bs. and measured 17ft. from tip to tip it was 
not "an American bald eagle," and asked him to weigh 
and measure the bird correctly and write to the United 
States Museum, Washington, D. C; the American 
Museum of Natural History, New York, N. Y., and 
Zoological Society, Philadelphia, Pa. On April 7, 1890, 
I had given to me a bald eagle in good condition that 
weighed only lOlbs. and measured 81in. from tip to tip 
of wings. If Mr. Dysinger has an eagle that weighs about 
351bs. it is worth all he thought it was, $25, even if it does 
not measure more than one-half of what he reports it to 
be. J. L. Davison. 
[Perhaps an immature roc] 
Fox and Eagle. 
A settler near the town of Estevan, situated a short 
distance north of the international boundary line, and a 
few miles east of the western boundary line of North 
Dakota, while driving across the prairie recently re- 
marked a fox some distance away crouching ever and 
anon in the tall grass and acting generally in a very un- 
usual manner. 
Assuming that he was stalking a mouse or other small 
rodent he gave him his attention, but soon the true cause 
of his movements became apparent as a large brown bird 
(presumably an eagle) was seen to drop on him like a 
flash. A fierce combat ensued (the bird underneath), as 
the fur and feathers scattered on the snow amply testified. 
He hastened thither with his team, and as he drew 
near his dog charged on the combatants, when they 
promptly separated, the bird alighting on a knoll a short 
distance away, the fox meanwhile making a lively dash 
for freedom. Soon, however, hostilities were resumed 
by the bird, and this time with fatal consequences to the 
victim; for as the man again approached the scene the 
bird, as in the former instance, flew away; the fox, how- 
ever, alas! for reynard, was prone in death's embrace on 
the prairie. W. M. 
Linnsean Society of New York. 
Regular meetings of the Society will be held in the 
American Museum of Natural History, Seventy-seventh 
street and Eighth avenue, on Tuesday evenings, Feb. 11 
and 25, at 8 o'clock. 
Feb. 11. — Arthur H. Howell, "Impressions of Some of 
the Birds of the Northwest, with Remarks on their Distri- 
bution." Postponed from meeting of Dec. 10. 
Feb. 25.— Walter W. Granger, "Mammals of the Bitter 
Creek Desert, Wyoming." Arthur H. Howell, "Remarks 
on the Mammals of Montana, Idaho, and parts of Wash- 
ton and Utah." Walter W. Granger, Sec'y. 
American Museum op Natural History. 
Deer Horns. 
Oroville, Okanogan County, Wash., Jan. 18. — Editor 
Forest and Stream: On the 6th of this month Ed. Lath- 
rop, of this place, killed a big blacktail buck that had 
shed his horns. This is the earliest I have ever known a 
deer to lose its horns. Sometimes they carry them till 
March 1. 
The snow is about 1ft. deep and crusted, which will be 
bad for deer unless it snows more soon. At present 
coyotes have the advantage. A few days ago while at 
Oroville I noticed quite a number of mallards in the 
Okanogan River. Lew Wilmot. 
Portland, Ind., Dec. 26. — Editor Forest and Stream: 
If our friends in discussing the question of deer shedding 
the velvet will make a note of the fact that the horning 
of bushes continues from midsummer on through the rut- 
ting season, and is not only more general late in the fall, 
but in a majority of instances is attended with pawing the 
earth at the base of the bush, they way conie to other 
conclusions than those mentioned. At the proper season, 
no doubt, a buck could get rid of much of the velvet by 
horning a bush, but I can't see how he could possibly de- 
termine when he had his horns polished uniformly. I 
have seen willows and other small bushes stripped of their 
bark while in the sap, and some had even been twisted 
entirely off, while large bushes showed where the points 
of the horns had ripped bark and wood into shreds. The 
buck was evidently prompted by some other motive than 
that of getting rid of the velvet. 
My humble opinion is, that as soon as his horns are 
fully grown and can be relied on for the purpose of de- 
fense and offense he begins to get saucy, and, as is the 
custom of his kind, leaves his mark on the bushes. As 
the season advances he horns more frequently, and paws 
the earth in defiance of his rivals. 
G. W. Cunningham. 
\mn* and %mu 
FIXTURES. 
March 16 to 21, 1896.— Second annual Sportsmen's Exposition, under 
the auspices of the Sportsmen's Association, at Madison Square 
Garden, New York city. Frank W. Sanger, Manager. 
THE CALIFORNIA VALLEY QUAIL. 
Coming from the East to spend the winter are many 
tourists, health and pleasure seekers, to escape the rigors 
of an Eastern climate. Many are lovers of rod and gun, 
and would pass many an agreeable hour if they were pos- 
sessed of the knowledge. Having come here a couple of 
years ago, and being fond of the field, I have become 
pretty well acquainted with the home and haunts of the 
game of southern California. 
The California Valley quail is a pretty bird, handsomer, 
I think, than the Eastern bird. Its color is a slate blue on 
back and wings, merging into brown and light on his 
breast, the only point in which he resembles the Eastern 
bird in color. A white line about an inch and a half long 
runs up along the side of the head above the eye, and he 
is possessed of a stately topknot that rises gracefully from 
the crest of the head, which makes him as graceful a 
member as any of his family. 
He is a plentiful bird in southern California, being 
found in all of the valleys that afford any undergrowth 
for protection; loving the valleys that border on the larger 
range of mountains, and not being so plentiful nearer the 
the coast. His habitat extends to an elevation of abou 
3,500ft., rarely higher. Above this dwells his hardier 
brother, the famed mountain quail of California. 
We shall take a hunt for him this fine December day — 
my friend who has just arrived from the East and I. We 
start from home in the morning with a horse and buggv 
for a three or four mile drive, out past many orange 
groves, the golden fruit and blossoms hanging side by side 
on the same tree and perfuming the air for acres around; 
on, past finely cultivated vineyards and orchards, the: 
trees and vines set in one straight, unbroken line that 
stretches far away in the distance. What a different rec 
ollection the visitor has of his last quail hunt back East, 
with the bitter cold, snow and slush under foot and dark 
skies overhead, the fingers so cold and numb that they 
could scarcely pull the trigger when you heard the wel- 
come whir and saw the dark object disappear in the dis- 
tance. 
The country and scenery begin to change rapidly as we 
approach the mountains; the orchards become scarcer anc 
scarcer and are scattered around in a more broken man 
ner, some situated on the rolling land at the base of the 
mountains, and in every gulch and gully where a few 
acres of ground can be cleared and cultivated. They also 
partake of the character of the scenery, being unkept anc 
weedy, spindling and crooked, as if any regularity of 
form and line were out of place. There are deep gullies 
and canons cut out of the mountains by ages of water that 
has rushed down the mountain side; and beds of dry runs 
covered with greasewood, the characteristic undergrowth 
of southern California; these never have any water run- 
ning in them except for a few weeks of each year. 
Lying to the right of us is one of these large marshes, 
being several miles long and averaging about a quarter oi 
a mile wide, and pretty well stocked with the featherec 
tribe, so we will journey thither. Leaving the horse and 
buggy we will take our guns, and dogs and journey the' 
rest of the way afoot. As we approach the marsh we 
pause on the edge before we enter, and as we make prep 
arations to start out again our attention is arrested by a 
peculiar cry. It is four syllables, kuk-kuk-kuk-ka, with, 
a prolonging of the last syllable that gradually dies away' 
in the distance, and is taken up again and again and re- 
peated at regular intervals as if coming from one throat 
It is the cry of the valley quail. When they are fright- 
ened or have been scared they have another cry, a short 
chip, chip, chip; it is generally their warning note, and is 1 
heard just before they flush. .And now for your plan of 
action. If you have never hunted these quail before it is 
likely that you will return with a light bag, and in your 
heart disguBt toward the quail. That is why a good 
many Eastern hunters come here with the best of guns 
and return with all manner of utterances against the 
quail, claiming that they will not lie to a dog; that there 
is no gameness about them, and that there is no pleasure 
in hunting them. 
March on boldly to that covered knoll from which you 
heard the sounds proceed; work and work quickly. You 
should get on the mountain side of them and try and 
keep them down toward the valley; if you do not you 
will have difficult shooting; if they reach the mountain 
and get into the thick underbrush you will have hard 
work to get them, but will have torn clothes and disap- 
pointment staring you in the face. When they riBe Bhooi 
at them, hit or miss — it matters not if you expend a few 
shot into space; you will be repaid for it after a while, 
After they have been flushed the first time they will noil 
fly very far, but before you come up to them their swif f I 
legs will have carried them some distance. 
After you have flushed them three or four times ancil 
spent several loads in vain effort to overtake them, youl 
will have them scattered well, and your heart should resil 
content, as you will enjoy some excellent shooting, anc J 
your dog, which in the meanwhile should have been kept! 
in the background, will work as well as he ever dial 
From behind sagewoodj clump .and stone within a radiu^ I 
