Ruffed Grouse 
241 
No other orchestra contains a member who can 
drum without a drum. Even that famous 
drummer, the woodpecker, needs a dead, dry, 
resonant, hardwood limb to tap on before he 
can produce his best effects. How does the 
grouse beat his deep, muffled, thump, thump, 
thumping, rolling tattoo? Some scientists have 
staked their reputation on the claim that they 
have seen him drum by rapidly striking his 
wings against the sides of his body; but other 
later-day scientists, who contend that he beats 
only the air when his wings vibrate so fast that 
the sight cannot quite follow them, are un- 
doubtedly right. 
On a fallen log, a stump, a rail fence or a wall, 
that may have been used as a drumming stand 
for many years, the male grouse will strut with 
a jerking, dandified gait, puff out his feathers, 
ruff his neck frills, raise and spread his fan- 
shaped tail like a turkey cock, blow out his 
cheeks and neck, then suddenly halt and begin 
to beat his wings. After a few slow, measured 
thumps, the stiff, strong wings whir faster 
and faster, until there is only a blur where they 
vibrate. This is the grouse’s love song that 
summons a mate to their trysting place. It 
serves also as a challenge to a rival. Blood and 
feathers may soon be strewn aroimd the ground, 
for in the spring grouse will fight as fiercely as 
game-cocks. Sportsmen in the autumn woods 
