Three Golden-winged ITarblers were singing, one in the 
A hen 
Partridge 
with young 
orchard, another in the Run near the red pines, the third 
west of the road opposite the house. The Great Crested 
Flycatcher was calling in the orchard near the house where 
I also heard a Purple Finch, a Chippy, Least Flycatcher, etc. 
Black-poll W rblers were scattered about everywhere.! 
The most interesting experience of the day was meeting 
with a hen Partridge accompanied by her brood of 10 young 
about 4 days old. I came upon her suddenly among thin birches 
at the foot of the lane on the farm. She rose within ten 
feet of me, flew slowly about ten yards, dropped on the ground 
and lay prostrate, beating her wings feebly but incessantly, 
making all the while a plaintive, shrill e-e-e- ee-ee , e-e-e- eeee— 
a sort of hissing whine. Knowing that she must have young 
I scanned the spot from wnich she had risen with the utmost 
care. At first I could see nothing but thin withered grass 
and scattered birch leaves. Then by degrees I made out 
the young, standing (not squatting) perfectly motionless 
in three clusters or bunches a foot or so apart. 
no sooner had I done this than they, evidently recon- 
nizing the fact that they were discovered, started off in 
every direction, running very swiftly and peeping feebly like 
young chickens. Most of them stopped and squatted suddenly 
under leaves or tufts of grass after going a rod or two but 
one kept on until he came to a stone wall into which he 
plunged headlong. I kept on over a knoll and sat down. 
lb 
