• 824 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Oct. 34, 1896. 
On the eastern declivities of our Atlantic coast, the dis- 
tricts in which the pinnated grouse are still to be naet 
with are some portions of the State of New Jersey, tlie 
hrushy plains of Long Island, Martha's Vineyard, the 
Elizabeth Islands, Mount Desert Island in the State of 
Maine, and a certain tract of barreny country in the lat- 
ter State lying not far from the famed Mar's Hill, where, 
however, they have been confounded with the willow 
grouse. In the three first places mentioned, notwith- 
standing the preventive laws now in force, they are 
killed without mercy by persons such as in England are 
called poachers, even while the female bird is in the act 
of sitting on her eggs. Excepting in the above-named 
places, not a bird of the species is at present to be found 
until you reach the lower parts of Kentucky, where, as I 
have told you before, a few stiU exist. In the State of 
Illinois, all the vast plains of the Missouri, those border- 
ing the Arkansas River, and on the prairies of Opellousas, 
the pinnated grouse is still very abundant and very easily 
procured. 
As soon as the snows have melted away, and the first 
blades of grass issue from the earth, announcing the ap- 
proach of spring, the grouse, which had congregated 
during the winter in great flocks, separate into parties of 
from twenty to fifty or more. Their love season com- 
mences, and a spot is pitched upon to which they daily 
resort until incubation is established. Inspired by love, 
the male birds, before the first glimpse of day lightens 
the horizon, fly swiftly and singly from their grassy beds, 
to meet, to challenge and to fight the various rivals led 
by the same impulse to the arena. The male is at this 
season attired in his full dress, and enacts his part in a 
manner not surpassed in pomposity by any other bird. 
Imagine them assembled to the number of twenty by 
daybreak, see them all strutting in the presence of each 
other, mark their consequential gestures, their looks of 
disdain and their angry pride as they pass each other. 
Their tails are spread out and inclined forward to meet 
the expanded feathers of their neck, which now like stiff- 
ened frills lie supported by the globular orange-colored re- 
ceptacles of air from which their singular booming sounds 
proceed. Their wings, like those of the turkey cock, are 
stiffened and declined so as to rub and rustle on the 
ground aa the bird passes rapidly along. Their bodies are 
depressed toward the ground, the fire of their eyes 
evinces the pugnacious workings of their mind, their 
notes fill the air around, and at the very first answer 
from some coy female the heated blood of the feathered 
warriors swells every vein, and presently the battle rages. 
Like game cocks they strike, and rise in the air to meet 
their assailants with greater advantage. Now many close 
in the encounter; feathers are seen whirling in the agi- 
tated air, or falling around them tinged with blood. The 
weaker begin to give way, and one after another seeks 
refuge in the neighboring bushes. The remaining few, 
greatly exhausted, maintain their ground, and withdraw 
slowly and proudly, as if each claimed the honors of vic- 
tory. The vanquished and the victors then search for 
the females', who, believing each to have returned from 
the field in triumph, receive them with joy. 
It not unfrequently happens that a male" already mated 
is suddenly attacked by some disappointed rival, who un- 
expectedly pounces upon him after a flight of considera- 
ble length, having been attmcted by the cacklings of the 
happy couple. The female invariably sqifats next to and 
almost under the breast of her lord, while he, always 
ready for action, throws himself on his daring antago- 
nist, and chases him away never to return. Such is the 
moment which I have attempted to represent in the plate 
which you will find in the second volume of my "Illus- 
trations." 
In such places in the Western country as I have de- 
scribed the prairie hen is heard booming or tooting not 
only before break of day, but frequently at all hours from 
morning until sunset; but in districts where these bii-ds 
have become wild in consequence of the continual inter- 
ference of man they are seldom heard after sunrise; 
sometimes their meetings are noiseless, their battles are 
much less protracted or of less frequent occurrence, and 
their beats or scratching grounds are more concealed. 
Many of the young males have battles even in autumn, 
when the females generally join, not to fight, but to con- 
ciliate them, in the manner of the wild turkeys. 
The pinnated grouse forms its nest, according to the 
latitude of the place, between the beginning of April and 
May 25. In Kentucky I have foxmd it finished and con- 
taining a few eggs at the period first mentioned; but I 
think, taking the differences of seasons into considera- 
tion, the average period may be about the first of May. 
The nest, although carelessly formed of dry leaves and 
grasses, interwoven in a tolerably neat manner, is always 
carefully placed amidst the tall grass of some large tuft 
in the open ground of the prairies, or at the foot of a 
small bush in the barren lands. The eggs are from eight 
to twelve, seldom more, and are larger than those of the 
Tetrao umbellus, although nearly of the same color. The 
female sits upon them eighteen or nineteen days, and the 
moment the young have fairly disengaged themselves 
leads thom away from the nest, when the male ceases to 
be seen with her. As soon as autumn is fairly in the 
different families associate together, and at the approach 
of winter I have seen packs composed of many hundred 
individuals. 
"When surprised, the young squat m the grass or weeds, 
HO that it is almost impossible to find any of them. Once, 
while crossing a part of the barrens on my way home- 
ward, my horse almost placed his foot on a covey that 
was in the path, I observed them and instantly leaped 
to the ground; but notwithstanding all my endeavors 
the cunning mother saved them by a single cluck. The 
little fellows rose on the wing for only a few yards, 
spread themselves aU round, and kept so close and quiet 
that, although I spent much time in search for them, I 
could not discover one. I was much amused, however, 
by the arts the mother employed to induce me to leave 
the spot where they lay concealed, when perhaps 1 was 
actually treading on some of them. 
This species never raises more than one brood in the 
season, unless the eggs have been destroyed, in which 
case the female immediately calls for her mate and pro- 
duces a second set of eggs, generally much smaller in 
number than the first. About Aug. 1 the young are as 
large as our little American partridge, and are then most 
excellent eating. They do not acquire mucb. strength of 
v?ing until the middle of October, and after that period 
they become daily more difficult to be approached. Their 
enemies are at thin season very numerous, but the princi- 
pal are the polecat, the raccoon, the weasel, the wildcat 
and various hawks. 
The pinnated grouse is easily tamed and easily kept. It 
also breeds in confinement, and I have often felt sur- 
prised that it has not been fairly domesticated. While at 
Henderson I purchased sixty alive that were expressly 
caught for me within twelve miles of that village, and 
brought in a bag laid across the back of a horse. I cut 
the tips of their wings and turned them loose in a garden 
and orchard about four acres in extent. Within a week 
they became tame enough to allow me to approach them 
without their being frightened. I supplied them with 
abundance of corn, and they fed besides on vegetables of 
various kinds. This was in the month of September, and 
almost all of them were young birds. In the course of the 
winter they became so gentle as to feed from the hand of 
my wife, and walked about the garden like so many tame 
fowls, mingling occasionally with the domestic poultry. 
I observed that at night each individual made choice of 
one of the heaps in which a cabbage had grown, and that 
they invariably placed their breast to the wind, whatever 
way it happened to blow. When spring returned they 
strutted, "tooted" and fought as if in the wilds where 
they had received their birth. Many laid eggs, and a 
good number of young ones made their appearance, but 
the grouse at last proved so destructive to the young 
vegetables, tearing them up by the roots, that I ordered 
them to be killed. So brave were some of the male birds 
that they never flinched in the presence of a large turkey 
cock, and now and then they would stand against a 
dunghill cock for a pass or two before they would run 
from him. 
During very severe weather I have known this species 
to roost at a considerable height on trees, but they gener- 
ally prefer resting on the ground. I observed that for 
several nights in succession many of these grouse slept in 
a meadow not far distant from my house. This piece of 
ground was thickly covered with tall grass, and one dark 
night I thought of amusing myself by trying to catch 
them. I had a large seine and took with me several 
negroes supplied with lanterns and long poles, with the 
latter of which they bore the net completely off the 
ground. We entered the meadow in the early part of 
the night, although it was so dark that without a light 
one could hardly have seen an object a yard distant, and 
spreading out the leaded end of the net, carried the other 
end forward by means of the poles at the height of a few 
feet. I had marked before dark a place in which a great 
number of the birds had alighted, and now ordered my 
men to proceed toward it. As the net passed over the 
first grouse in the way, the alarmed bird flew directly 
toward the confining part of the angle, and almost at the 
same moment a great number of others arose, and, with 
much noise, followed the same direction. At a signal 
the poles were laid flat on the ground and we secured the 
prisoners, bagging some dozens. Repeating our experi- 
ment three times in succession, we met with equal suc- 
cess, but now we gave up the sport on account of the 
loud bursts of laughter from the negroes, who could no 
longer refrain. Leaving the net on the ground, we re- 
turned to the house laden with spoil, but next evening 
not a grouse was to be found in the meadow, although I 
am confident that several hundreds had escaped. 
On the ground the pinnated grouse exhibits none of 
the elegance of manner observed in the ruffed grouse, 
but walks more like the common hen, although in a more 
erect attitude. If surprised it rises at once with a moder- 
ate whirring sound of the wings; but if it happens to see 
you at a distance, and the place is clear, it instantly runs 
off with considerable speed and stops at the first tuft of 
high grass or bunch of briar, when it squats and remains 
until put up. In newly plowed grounds I have seen 
them run with all their might, their wings partially ex- 
panded, until suddenly meeting with a large clod, they 
would stop, squat, and disappear in a moment. During 
the noontide hours several may often be seen dusting 
themselves near each other, either on the plowed fields 
or the dry sandy roads, and rearranging their feathers in 
a moment, in the same manner as the wild turkey. Like 
the common fowls, they watch each other's motions, and 
if one has discovered a grasshopper, and is about to chase 
it, all the rest within sight either fly or run to the place. 
When the mother of a brood is found with her young 
ones she instantly ruffles up her feathers, and often looks 
as if she would fly at you; but this she never ventures to 
do, although she tries every art to decoy you from the 
place. On large branches of trees these birds walk with 
great ease, but on small ones they require the aid of their 
wings to enable them to walk steadily. They usually, if 
not always, roost singly within a few feet of each other, 
and on such little eminences as the grouad affords. I 
have found them invariably fronting the wind, or the 
quarter from which it was to blow. It is only during the 
early age of the young birds that they sit on the ground 
in a circle. 
The flight of the prairie hen is strong, regular, toler- 
ably swift, and at times protracted to the distance of 
several miles. The whirring of its wings is less conspic- 
uous than that of the ruffed grouse or "pheasant" {Tetrao 
umbellus), and its flight is less rapid. It moves through 
the air with frequent beats, after which it sails with the 
wings bent downward, balancing itself for a hundred 
yards or more, aa if to watch the movements of its pur- 
suer, for at this time they can easily be observed to look 
behind them as they proceed. They never rise when dis- 
turbed without uttering four or five distinct clucks, 
although at other times they fly off in silence. They are 
easily shot down by a calm sportsman, but are very apt 
to deceive a young hand. In the Western country they 
rarely stand before the pointer, and I think the setter is 
a more profitable dog there. In the Eastern States, how- 
ever, pointers, as I am informed, are principally em- 
ployed. These birds rarely await the approach of the 
sportsman, but often rise when he is at such a distance 
as to render it necessary for him to be very prompt in 
firing. Unlike other species, they seldom pass over you, 
even when you surprise them, and if the oountry is 
wooded they frequently alight on the highest branches of 
our tallest trees, where they are usually more accessible. 
If shot almost dead they fall and turn round on the 
ground with great violence until life is extinct; but when 
lees injured they run with great celerity to some secluded 
place, where they remain so quiet and silent as to render 
it difficult to find them without a good dog. Their flesh 
is dark and resembles that of the red grouse of Scotland 
or the opotted grouse of North America. 
The curious notew emitted in the love season are 
peculiar to the male. When the receptacles of air, 
which in form, color and size resemble a small orange, 
are perfectly inflated, the bird lowers its head to the 
ground, opens its bill and sends forth, as it were, the air 
contained in these bladders in distinctly separate notes, 
rolling one after another from loud to low, and produc- 
ing a soimd like that of a large muffled drum. This 
done, the bird immediately erects itself, refills its recep- 
tacles by inhalation, and again proceeds with its toot- 
ings. I frequently observed in those prairie hens which 
I had tamed at Henderson that after producing the noise 
the bags lost their rotundity and assumed the appearance 
of a burst; bladder, but that in a few seconds they were 
again inflated. Having caught one of the birds, I passed 
the point of a pin through each of its air cells, the conse- 
quence of which was that it was unable to toot anymore. 
With another bird I performed the same operation on 
one only of the cells, and next morning it tooted with the 
sound one, although not so loudly as before, but could 
not inflate the one which had been punctured. The 
sound, in my opinion, cannot be heard at a much greater 
distance than a mile. All my endeavors to decoy this 
species by imitating its curious sounds were unsuccessful, 
although the ruffed grouse is easily deceived in this 
manner. As soon as the strutting and fighting are over 
the collapsed bladders are concealed by the feathers of 
the ruff, and during autumn and winter are much re- 
duced in size. These birds, indeed, seldom if ever meet 
in groups on the scratching grounds after incubation has 
taken place; at all events, I have never seen them fight 
after that period, for, like the wild turkeys, after spend- 
ing a few weeks apart to recover their strength, they 
gradually unite, and as soon as the young are grown up 
individuals of both sexes mix with the latter and con- 
tinue in company till spring. The young males exhibit 
the bladders and elongated feathers of the neck before 
the first winter, and by the next spring have attained 
maturity, although, as in many other species, they in- 
crease in size and beauty for several years. 
In the Western country at the approach of winter these 
birds frequent the tops of the sumac bushes to feed on 
their seeds, often in such numbers that I have seen them 
bent by their weight; and I have counted more than fifty 
on a single apple tree, the buds of which they entirely 
destroyed in a few hours. They also alight on the high 
forest trees on the margins of large rivers, such as the 
Mississippi, to eat grapes and the berries and leaves of the 
parasitical mistletoe. During several weeks which I 
spent on the banks of the Mississippi, above the mouth of 
the Ohio, I often observed flocks of them flying to and 
fro across the broad stream, alighting at once on the 
highest trees with as much ease as any other bird. They 
were then so abundant that the Indians, with whom I 
was in company, killed them with arrows whenever they 
chanced to alight on the ground or low bushes. 
During the sowing season their visits to the wheat and 
cornfields are productive of considerable damage. They 
are fond of grasshoppers, and pursue these insects as 
chickens are wont to do, sometimes to a distance of 30 or 
40yds, They drink water like the common fowl when at'* 
liberty, and, like all other species of this family, are fond 
of dusting themselves in the paths or among the earth of 
the fields. 
I have often observed them carry their tail in the man- 
ner of the common hen. During the first years of my 
residence at Henderson, in severe winters the number of 
grouse of this species was greatly augmented by large 
flocks of them that evidently came from Indiana, Illinois, 
and even from the western side of the Mississippi. They re- 
tired at the approach of spring, no doubt to escape from 
the persecution of man. 
It would not perhaps be proper that I should speak of 
the value put on the flesh of these birds by epicures. All 
that I shall say is that I never thought much of it, and 
would at any time prefer a piece of buffalo or bear flesh; 
so that I have no reason to regret my inability to pur- 
chase prairie hens for eating at $5 the pair. 
The Frog-Rail Theory. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
The beliefs that frogs turn into sora rail, that horsehairs 
become hair-snakes, that barnacles breed brant, that eels 
spring from clams and that a dead greaser becomes a 
burro, are all interesting to the anthropologist as indicat- 
ing a primitive type of mind in methods of searching for 
knowledge. Compare the horsehair snake mythologist, 
for instance, with the naturalist who traces the gordius 
through all of its immature stages, and we have a valu- 
able object lesson in types of mind. How easy for a 
frog-rail theorist to turn to any authoritative book and 
learn all about the rail, and yet our educators in a proud 
land have not succeeded in teaching the average labor- 
ing man how to teach himself in such a very simple'mat- 
ter. The belief that deer do not eat lilypads represents 
the sort of mind that does not wish to acquire knowledge. 
The possessor of that sort of a mind need not go very far 
to learn that almost any hunter looks at cut lily stems to 
see whether they were bitten off at one nip by deer or by 
two or three nips by muskrats. He may argue that the 
deer do not hold the lily pads down and that they step 
behind a tree and spit them up, but almost any deer 
hunter who is quick has managed to kill the deer before 
they could spit up a whole paunchful of lilypads and 
buds. The frog-rail theorist represents a man who can- 
not learn because his methods are incomplete. The man 
who deprives deer of their reputation for good taste in 
diet represents the type that will not have knowledge be- 
cause he prefers not to have it. R. T. M. 
Philadelphia, Oct. Hi.— Editor Forest and Stream: 
Seeing the article written about the rail bird in this week's, 
issue, I thought I would send you a clipping cut from the 
Philadelphia Sunday Times, June 31, 1896, which may- 
throw a little more Ught on this mysterious bird: 
LowKB Alloway, June 20.— It has always been the general belief 
among- sportsmen that rail birds do not breed in this section of the 
country, but the finding of a rail bird's nest with three eggs in it 
proves the falsity of the belief. Howard Harris, of this place, has the 
nest, and as he saw the mother bird fly from it there Is no doubt but 
they occasionally rear their young in these parts. The nest and eggs 
are on exhibition in this place and are quite a curiosity. 
A friend of mine killed a rail bird in Christmas week, 
1895, on a fairly cold day — too cold for a frog to come out 
of the mud, much less a bird of this species to be this far 
JNorth; the bird was shot on the marsh above the Phila- 
delphia Gun Club's grouudSi on the Pennsylvania shore, 
Delaware River^ A Reai>i£K. 
