94 
THE PINNATED GROUSE. 
the Barrens for the first time in the early days of June, and as I entered 
them from the skirts of an immense forest, I was surprised at the beauty 
of the prospect before me. Flowers without number, and vying with each 
other in their beautiful tints, sprung up amidst the luxuriant grass ; the 
fields, the orchards, and the gardens of the settlers, presented an appearance 
of plenty, scarcely any where exceeded ; the wild fruit-trees, having their 
branches interlaced with grape-vines, promised a rich harvest ; and at every 
step I trod on ripe and fragrant strawberries. When I looked around, an 
oak knob rose here and there before me, a charming grove embellished a 
valley, gently sloping hills stretched out into the distance, while at hand 
the dark entrance of some cavern attracted my notice, or a bubbling spring 
gushing forth at my feet seemed to invite me to rest and refresh myself 
with its cooling waters. The timid deer snuffed the air, as it gracefully 
bounded off, the Wild Turkey led her young ones in silence among the tall 
herbage, and the bees bounded from flower to blossom. If I struck the stiff 
foliage of a black-jack oak, or rustled among the sumachs and brambles, 
perchance there fluttered before me in dismay the frightened Grouse and 
her cowering brood. The weather was extremely beautiful, and I thought 
that the Barrens must have been the parts from which Kentucky derived 
her name of the “ Garden of the West !” 
There it was, that, year after year, and each successive season, I studied 
the habits of the Pinnated Grouse. It was there that, before sunrise, or at 
the close of day, I heard its curious boomings, witnessed its obstinate bat- 
tles, watched it during the progress of its courtships, noted its nest and 
eggs, and followed its young until, fully grown, they betook themselves to 
their winter quarters. 
When I first removed to Kentucky, the Pinnated Grouse were so 
abundant, that they were held in no higher estimation as food than the most 
common flesh, and no “ hunter of Kentucky” deigned to shoot them. They 
were, in fact, looked upon with more abhorrence than the Crows are at 
present in Massachusetts and Maine, on account of the mischief they 
committed among the fruit trees of the orchards during winter, when they 
fed on their buds, or while in the spring months they picked up the grain 
in the fields. The farmer’s children, or those of his negroes, were employed 
to drive them away with rattles from morning to night, and also caught 
them in pens and traps of various kinds. In those days, during the winter, 
the Grouse would enter the farm-yard and feed with the poultry, alight on 
the houses, or walk in the very streets of the villages. I recollect having 
caught several in a stable at Henderson, where they had followed some 
Wild Turkeys. In the course of the same winter, a friend of mine, who was 
fond of practising rifle-shooting, killed upwards of forty in one morning, but 
