December, 1918 
FOREST AND STREAM 
695 
fifty more was delivered with my compli¬ 
ments. The cost was small when you con¬ 
sider the hunting I got—and got it without 
•expecting to be driven off any moment. I 
have kept up the custom and I am the only 
one who ever hunts those woods with a 
•clear conscience. 
I was one of a party of three to go on 
a trip into the next county for grouse. I 
was a stranger, but my comrades knew the 
ropes as they lived in the vicinity. We left 
•our automobiles at a farmhouse and got 
three grouse after a short hunt. I pro-, 
cured the farmer’s name and address and 
that Christmas sent him a pair of heavy 
working gloves. The cost was but a trifle, 
hut he appreciated the spirit and wrote 
me a very kind letter, winding it up by 
saying: “You didn’t get all the partridges. 
I saw two yesterday, and I’ll try to keep 
them for you when you come next fall.” 
T HERE was a farm in Ledyard, Conn., 
where I was invited by its owner to 
go hunting with him one day. Nat¬ 
urally I found time to go. Our bag for 
the day was four ruffed grouse, a wood¬ 
cock, a lone quail, five gray squirrels and 
two rabbits. It was a good farm to hunt 
on and I intended to go again the next year. 
Before that time arrived, the farm 
changed ownership and it was up to me to 
do some prospecting. The new owner was 
a foreigner and spoke but little English, 
so I had some difficulty to make myself 
understood. I succeeded, howevet, but 
while cigars showed my feeling in the mat¬ 
ter, the owner didn’t smoke. 
I went hunting and took three nice ruffed 
grouse home with me. At New Year, I 
personally delivered a pair of driving 
gloves at this man’s home. When he final¬ 
ly understood the reason for my gift, the 
broad smile on his face told plainly whether 
I could hunt on his land in the future. 
At another place, a box of candy put the 
farm at my disposal. Yes, it brought a 
treat to sweet cider, apples and a hearty 
invitation to "come again and perhaps you 
will have better luck.” 
There is one farm where I am always 
welcome. I may shoot any game on the 
place except quail. I always get one, two 
or three grouse every trip, but I never pull 
trigger on a quail, though often have I 
gone through a certain maple swamp on 
that farm and scattered a big bevy of quail, 
only to have them popping up later at my 
very feet every few steps. The owner 
doesn’t want the quail shot and I don’t 
shoot at them; so I hunt there •yvhen I 
please. Others who shoot at the quail 
there, do it but once. 
I N summing up the whole matter, the 
farmer owns the land and if he doesn’t 
want hunters, trespassing, they will have 
to keep off. One reckless “cuss” in a town 
can “queer” the entire surrounding farm¬ 
ing community. When a careless “bone- 
head” tests the pattern of his gun on the 
side of a barn, can you expect the kind- 
hearted farmer on the inside to merely lay 
low and pick out the birdshot that went 
through the cracks? Strange as it may 
seem, a powder concern has an advertise¬ 
ment in a magazine showing a shooter tar¬ 
geting his gun on the side of somebody’s 
barn. Who under the heavens ever got 
up the brilliant idea? 
(continued on page 724) 
BOB WHITE, THE GAME BIRD OF AMERICA 
NO BIRD HAS SUCH EXTENDED RANGE AND NONE TESTS SO WELL THE 
TRAINING OF THE DOG AND THE EYE AND NERVE OF THE SPORTSMAN 
O F all the game birds of America, none 
is so endeared to the lover of coun¬ 
try life or better appreciated by the 
sportsman than little Bob White. He may 
he found from southern Maine and Canada 
to the Gulf, and from the Atlantic to the 
high central plains, and he is known by va¬ 
rious names. In the’ North and East he is 
•called Quail; in the South and West, he is 
Partridge; while everywhere he is known 
as Bob White. Let us then call him as he 
•calls himself, and we will not be berated 
for our ignorance of natural history. 
Observation of the habits of this gallant 
and affectionate bird has shown that he 
is naturally a monogamist. He selects his 
•mate and makes his courtship in the spring, 
soon after the snow and frost have gone, 
when the willows have turned yellow and 
the frogs are piping in the marshes. In 
the month of May they build their simple 
•nest, formed of a slight depression in the 
ground, lined with soft leaves and dried 
grasses. This nest may be found under a 
tussock of grass, beneath a small bush, in 
the brier-grown corner of a worm-fence, at 
the foot of an old stump, alongside a log. 
or often in the open fields of wheat or 
•clover. The nest is sometimes closed above 
with stubble mingled with the grass tussock 
or briers, and provided with a side en¬ 
trance ; but the nest is as often found open 
above as closed. 
In this nest the hen-bird lays from one 
dozen to two dozen eggs of a pure, bril¬ 
liant white. While the hen is laying, and 
during the time of nesting, the cock is the 
■happiest of husbands. Filled with joy and 
pride, he sits on the low bough of a neigh¬ 
boring tree, or perches on the fence-rail 
By ALFRED M. MAYER 
quite near his spouse, whom he never 
wearies of telling that he is “Bob White— 
your Bob White” in such a brilliant, happy 
voice that the farmer stops his work and 
the children leave their play to listen to 
him, and are happier for having heard him. 
In from three to four weeks the little 
downy young leave the egg, and even with 
pieces of egg-shell yet sticking on their 
backs they go off with their parents to be 
taught to search for food. They feed on 
the seeds of various grasses, weeds, and ce¬ 
reals, and on berries; and they return a 
hundred-fold the bounty of their landlbrd 
by destroying for his benefit not only 
countless numbers of destructive insects, 
but quantities of weed-seed, one or two gills 
of which the adult birds can stow away in 
their little crops during a day’s feeding. 
Old birds and young form one happy fam¬ 
ily, the young remaining with their parents 
until the following spring, in the pairing 
season, when the old ties are severed. 
B OB WHITE schools the wing-shot as 
severely as the wily trout tries the 
angler. Like the trout, he has habits 
which we must be acquainted with in or¬ 
der to find him, and when found we our¬ 
selves may be found—wanting. It requires 
much experience to be able to divine the 
whereabouts of Bob White. If the weather 
be fair,, start early, for the birds will be 
on their feeding-grounds at sunrise, and 
will be found in the fields of stubble, or in 
the midst of the rag-weed, and along the 
brier-fringed ditches; and do not forget 
the field of buckwheat, for they are espe¬ 
cially fond of it. About ten or eleven they 
will cease feeding, and will seek the sunny 
side of some covert near a stream, where 
(hey will quench their thirst after their 
morning meal. Here they will dust and 
preen themselves, and take their noonday 
siesta. The birds will generally remain 
here till three or four hours after midday, 
and, closely huddled as they are, they are 
very difficult for the dog to find. 
The sportsman, if wise, will now follow 
the example of the birds, and seeking the 
quiet of some sheltered sunny nook, will 
take his lunch and rest himself and his 
dogs. How well we remember that pleas¬ 
ant spring-side, with the dogs stretched be¬ 
fore us to catch the warm rays of the sun, 
their eyes furtively glancing at us, waiting 
for their share of the lunch; the fragrant 
cigar, the pleasant jckes at our bad shots 
and untimely tumble, the generous admira¬ 
tion of our companions’ skill, and talk 
about the wonderful working of the dogs. 
I F the weather is very dry, do not seek 
the birds on the uplands, for Bob White, 
though no hydropathist, likes the vicinity 
of water. But if your hunt occurs after a 
rainy spell, go to the upland stubble-fields, 
and work your dogs along the border of 
the sunniest and driest of the coverts. 
If it is windy and cold, the birds will be 
found in covert along the sunny lee slopes 
of the valleys, in the tall rag-weed and 
briers of the hollows, and on the sunny 
borders of the woods and hedge-rows. 
They will not now lie well to the dog, and 
when flushed will go like bullets into the 
deepest thickets. Should you hope to pre¬ 
vent this by getting them in between you 
and the dogs, you may often be mistaken, 
for in all likelihood they will spring over 
