Ruffed Grouse 
251 
Habits 
in Winter 
rattle down from the chestnut-trees, or the wind scatters three-cornered 
beech-nuts among the thick leaves, the Ruffed Grouse live well and 
become sturdy and fat, preparing for the winter. Their feathers thicken, 
the hair-like covering on the legs gets long and warm, and from the side 
of the toes grow out little horny comb-like appendages, which perhaps 
may serve in some degree as snow-shoes, supporting the birds when they 
walk over the deep, light snow of the woods. In the northern country, 
when the ground is heavily covered with snow, the grouse are reported 
sometimes to dive into the light snow-drifts to spend the night, protected 
from the cold of the upper air by the blanket of snow above them. 
In winter the Ruffed Grouse is very likely to seek out the sunny side of 
thick woods and swamps, and in the middle of the 
day to sit there, preening itself and enjoying the grate- 
ful warmth. In spring and summer — and even in 
winter — I have found fresh places where the grouse had dug out 
dusting-places in the soil, precisely as domestic chickens do in warm 
weather. 
The habits of the Ruffed Grouse vary with the locality in which it is 
found and the conditions of its life. In wild regions, where man is 
seldom seen, where the roar of firearms is not heard, and its only enemy 
is lynx or fox or hawk or owl, it is the most trusting of birds. If the 
traveler comes immediately upon it, it is likely to fly up on the low 
branch of a tree, and examine him with interest and curiosity. If, by 
chance, he should Are three or four pistol-shots at it without hitting it, it 
does nothing more than turn its head from side to side, as if curious to 
discover the cause of the unusual sound. In parts of the Rocky Moun- 
tains or of Canada, a grouse will sometimes sit on a limb until a noose, 
tied to the end of a pole, is slipped over its head, or a stick thrown by a 
vigorous hand knocks it from its perch, or an Indian boy shoots it with 
a blunt arrow. 
In the East, where it is constantly pursued, the bird hast lost its sim- 
plicity and trustfulness. It has learned the lesson of 
self-protection from dog and gun. It flies at the 
sound of the human voice a long way off ; is bold and 
fearless, or cautious and evasive, as the occasion demands ; practises a 
great variety of stratagems, and is abundantly able to cope with most 
gunners. While birds without experience are obviously less able to pro- 
tect themselves, the old stagers who have survived one or two shooting 
seasons possess a wisdom which often seems fairly uncanny. 
Sportsmen generally believe that, from the middle of October until 
sharp frosts begin to chill the waters of streams and swamps, the Ruffed 
Grouse, like their distant cousins, the quails, wander about more or less, 
and are not to be found in their usual haunts. This is called the “running 
season” or “crazy season.” Certain it is, that at this time of the year 
there is more or less shifting from place to place by the grouse, who tend 
to desert their summer resorts and to move into places where, during the 
Lessons 
in Caution 
