DRUMMING OF THE RUFFED GROUSE. 
p.3l.(o, 
' Fbtjitland, W. T. 
Editor Ambricah Field :— A few years ago, while looking 
after a miner’s ditch in the solitude of the mountain forests 
on the Upper Clear Water River, I happened to get hold of 
a work on natural history ; and as the ruffed grouse were 
very plentiful, their habits, as set forth by the author, at 
tracted attention. 
It was in the Spring of the year, and they were drumming 
continually on all sides of me. I could not believe the 
vibration that set the still air in a tremble about my ears 
was made by the tapping of the wings upon logs, or upon 
anything more solid than a drum head. My curiosity was 
aroused, and as the opportunity was at hand I determined 
to settle the question as to how the drumming was done. 
Every day an old cock clucked at me as he jumped from 
an old log and started behind the thick little firs, with his 
ruffed neck nodding as he stepped proudly away. That 
log was his drumming place, and I soon found the exact 
section he occupied. Ko longer would I let that bird puz- 
zle me. I selected a place with perfect cover as a blind, 
and with my ax trimmed out the brush so that I could have 
an unobstructed view of his resort. The next morning, 
armed with a Berdan rifle telescope, I was in my blind, i 
with the glass arranged on rests, when the shy bird came 
noiselessly to his sacred bower to sing his matin song. He 
stood still and upright for a long time, as if intently listen- 
ing. He puffed up his neck as large as his body ; he raised 
the black tuft of feathers on his neck, showing a wind bag | 
light as a drum head ; then he thumped the sac as if to 
test the tension of the drum, and then : thump -thump 
thump — thump-thump, faster and faster, till his wings 
were a blue blur to look upon, and the sound was a rumble 
like the hum of a bee on a iarge scale. In the interim he 
would smooth his feathers, and listen for an answer from 
some charmed female, or the challenge of the enemy. I 
watched him till I was positive as to how the noise was 
made. It is made beating upon the inflated neck of the 
bird, by the butts of the wings, as a boy would beat upon a 
drum, both ends at once. I then killed the bird, examined 
the wind bag, and blew it up like a bladder. \ 
My glass was thirty inches long, and so powerful that I 
could see a .45-caliber buliet-hole in white paper at a dis- 
tance of one thousand three hundred yards. You can form 
an idea how distinctly I could see every motion of the 
gro^e. I cou ld see him wink. Every member of the 
grouse family makes his call or hoot, or whatever it is, by 
inflating the neck. The ruffed grouse is no exception. 
L. P. WlLMOT. 
DRUMMING OF THE RUFFED GROUSE. 
«^T>t.9M4.XX/X.,-yo-.2A. -Dysabt, Pa. 
Editor American Field : — Having ueen ’ a constant 
reader of your valuable paper for some time, I could not 
help noticing the differences of opinion as to the mode by 
which the ruffed grouse produces his peculiar drumming 
sound. As a sportsman, I can safely say that your corre- 
spondent, Roxey Newton, is completely wrong. I crept up 
where one was drumming, and, as I was only five paces off 
from him, I can safely assert in what way it was done. He 
stood erect on the log, and crosswise, looked about a bit and 
as he did not see me (I was behind a large root) he began. 
One I two! three times, then he paused, looked around 
j again, and with head erect and chest expanded, how he did 
^ make those wings go, but he never touched the log with 
them. He drummed at least twenty times while I was 
there, and never once did he walk around, excepting he 
j turned once clean around, shook his feathers, gave a couple 
of coos and began drumming again. H,p kept that up until 
about flve o’clock, when the old hen came up, and with tail 
expanded and wings dragging on the ground, not much un- 
like a turkey gobbler, he started off with his mate in quest 
of food. I fully agree with all that T. G. Sargent says and 
hope to hear often from such men. If no Are comes 
through the mountain to destroy the nests there will be a 
large quantity of ruffed grouse, or pheasants, as they are 
balled here. Willie F. Pierson. 
Chetopa, Kan. 
Editor American Field : — A few weeks ago I sent you 
a short article in regard to the drumming of the ruffed 
grouse, not thinking for a moment of the improvements 
which might have been made, since I last heard them thirty 
years ago, in Ontario County, New York. It certainly 
must be a decided advantage and a great relief to the bird, 
to produce the same sound by striking with its wings into 
the air rather than to pound its body with the same when 
drumming. What a stupid fellow our barnyard fowl must 
be that he don’t catch on to some of the late improvements, 
and instead of beating his body with his wings, as a signal 
that he is about to crow, that he does not strike them out 
into the air. It would be less exertion, more graceful, less 
wear and tear. It appears to me that a bird would last 
much longer, under the late discovery of vibration, than in 
the old-fashioned way of thumping the very life out of his 
own body to gratify his desire to make a noise, when the 
same could be accomplished by vibration. As to the hum- 
ming bird and the bee, their machinery is too fine for me to 
tackle. I look every day to see the small boy cast his drum 
i aside and to play his little tune along the streets with 
I drumsticks only, just vibration. Certainly this is a fast 
age. A. A. Case. 
; Mottville, N. Y. 
Editor American Field : — 1 wish to add my testimony 
in the ruffed grouse case. Many times when a boy, I have 
sat within ten or twelve feet of an old moss-covered log, 
and have watched the cock partridge strut to and fro, drum- 
ming the air, and challenging his rivals to come and try 
him on. I am sure no sound could come from the log, for 
it was soft as a bank of earth. I have watched to the best 
of my abiiity, but could never fully determine how the 
partridge made so much noise, although I fancied he did it 
by rapping the backs of his wings together. F. A. S. 1 
