,v 
Partridge 
11 “budding 11 
I tried in vain to shoot the white-ruffed birds 
seen to-day. They would not let me get nearer than 100 
yards before taking wing. Neither attempted to hide, but 
merely stood looking at me until they thought I was getting 
dangerously near, when they flew to a distant part of the 
meadow, returning to their original stations soon after I 
went ba.ck to my canoe. There was simply no cover of any 
kind and it was impossible to stalk them.Js 
As I was taking a walk through Pine Park just 
after sunset, I heard something making a loud continuous 
rustling among the dry leaves on the back of Ball 5 s Hill. 
Presently a very small hen Partridge appeared, walking 
swiftly down the hillside. On coming under a wild-apple 
tree that stands at the edge of the woods, she flew 
straight up into it without making the slightest sound of 
wings, and began budding. Standing within thirty yards of 
the tree, I, watched her closely through my glass. She 
worked very busily for about 15 or 20 minutes, pecking at 
the buds almost as fast as a hen picks up corn and making, 
as nearly as I could average it, about two pecks every 
three seconds. They were made in every direction, straight 
up and down as well as to all sides. Every minute or two 
the bird changed her perch, walking, sometimes, a yard or 
two among the smaller twigs just as if she had been on 
the ground. When reaching for buds below her foothold, she 
would bend far forward and downward with outstretched 
neck, but I did not see the tail cocked up above the line 
/fe 
