1 8 The Ruffed Grouse 
Under brush and in the shadow, 
Seeks a hollow lined with mosses, 
Filled with leaves and sweet pine needles ; 
There her pale brown eggs she fondles, 
There in anxious silence watches, 
Stirs not, starts not, though dread danger 
Passes near her, crashes by her. 
Warm the leaves when chicks are hatch- 
ing, 
Full the ground of dainty morsels, 
Broad the ferns to hide her darlings, 
Keen her ear to tell of danger. 
If perchance a man approaches, 
Nears her brood and notes her presence, 
Ah, how quickly does the mother 
Risk herself to save her nestlings ! 
Whining, moaning, near him crouching. 
Limping, fluttering, leading onward. 
While the chicks, with matchless cunning 
Craft inherited from ages, 
Under leaves, beneath broad mushrooms. 
