
896 
FOREST aAN Dao bE A Ma 

~ 
shooters, this 
sylvan dell still 
countless hordes of modern 
sovereign of stately wood and 
lives and gives fair promise to bless future gen- 
erations with untold wealth of most fascinating 
sport. 
I have always taken great delight in witness- 
ing the ‘many tricks and subterfuges to which 
this crafty bird resorts to escape the hunter, 
and it is well that I do; for very many times 
this is all that I have had left to console me for 
the defeat of well laid plans and the coming to 
naught of long and weary tramps. 
Early in the season last year, 1906, while out 
shooting, I met a farmer friend who told me of 
a large covey of grouse on the summit of quite 
steep hill near by, and I at once started in 
When I gained the summit, I 
open pasture liberally 
of blackberry briars, with 
a promising looking alder the op- 
posite side. The dog struck scent within a few 
rods of the edge and soon had them fast; but as 
pursuit of them. 
found myself in .an 
sprinkled with patches 
cover on 
I started to go to him a large covey of grouse 
rose out of shot, and, flying across the pasture, 
settled in the alder cover. When I arrived there 
I found the cover to consist of clumps of young 
alder sprouts not more than four feet high with 
zig-zag paths between the clumps, from two to 
four feet wide. Congratulating myself upon the 
soft snap I had in such a spot, I sent on the 
dog and he soon pinned one. As I walked up 
to him, I well remember that there was a feel- 
ing in my heart of commiseration for the poor 
birds, 
from such-a place. 
this feeling vanished as by magic, for I never 
the bird, although it within 
ten feet of me, for it twisted along those zig- 
zag paths and never showed itself until out of 
shot. 
This performance 
new to me, and it gave me quite a turn, but the 
trick was so neatly done that admiration for the 
wisdom of the performer dispelled 
grief, although I did feel rather foolish about 
my sentiments of pity for the poor unprotected 
bird when I heard them rising all around me 
for it was impossible for them to escape 
But when I forced a rise, 
rose 
saw “poor” 
was something entirely 
soon my 
with never one of them showing so much as a 
single feather until at a Every 
one of the covey cut that same caper, and the 
last I saw of them, they were far away, amid the 
safe distance. 
sheltering arms of a dense grove of pines. 
When the first one sprang this low down trick 
on me, I believed it to be the old hen bird with 
the 
the entire 
wit and wisdom sufficient for present oc- 
family re- 
casion at least, but when 
peated the performance, I regretfully came to 
the conclusion that there was something radically 
wrong in the educational system that I had so 
long and ardently pursued; or that I had sadly 
neglected my opportunities, to get so badly left 
in an encounter with these young and unso- 
phisticated dwellers in the. wildwood whose 
habits and traits I had spent a lifetime in 
studying. JI was deeply interested in the future 
of these birds, and in order that they should not 
deteriorate or become careless from lack of op- 
portunity to keep their wits sharpened, I gave 
the snap away to four friends, and 
from all I could gather in relation to the mat- 
ter, I judged that were quite exciting 
times upon that hilltop for many days; but I 
failed to learn that the gallant band lost more 
than two or three of their number during the 
three or 
there 
f 
whole season. 
Next October, I shall again climb that steep 
hill, and again pit my skill against their cunning, 
and, my word for it, there will be no pity in 
my heart when I get among them. I shall not 
again return with empty pockets, for I intend 
reading up all that I can find in relation to their 
habits. Surely I shall find something that will 
give me a pointer as to the proper course to 
pursue in order to circumvent these up-to-date 
and very fly dwellers on that beautiful hilltop. 
Within the limits of this goodly city, and not 
more than two miles from where I am now 
sitting, there is an extensive tract of forest and 
swamp with several little outlying alder runs, 
that was a famous place for birds some years 
ago. Even now, one can occasionally enjoy a 
The queen of that section of 
She has 
little sport there. 
country is a famous old hen partridge. 
lived in that vicinity and reared her family each 
season for several years. This veritable ghost 
bird has seen enough powder burned to an- 
nihilate her race, and heard profanity enough to 
put to shame our army of Flanders. Tricks and 
subterfuges without number are part and parcel 
of her daily life throughout each open season. 
Strong of wing and ever watchful, she is up and 
away before danger approaches within harmful 
distance, and so long and deviously uncertain is 
her flight that it is rare for one to find her the 
second time. I once saw her rise two gun shots 
away, and fly straight as an arrow for a favorite 
cover, approaching it with every indication of 
alighting, even to lowering near the ground and 
setting her wings; but just as she was near the 
edge she swerved sharply to the right and with 
the seeming vigor of a newly started bird she 
laid her course in the direction of another cover. 
My companion joined me a few minutes later 
when I explained matters to him and assured 
him that this was the turning point in this bird’s 
for we had her down fine where 
she could not escape. With mutual congratula- 
tions upon our good fortune in getting on to 
planned dodger, we complacently 
our way to the with never a 
doubt that at last, after so many inglorious 
failures, the long sought prize was ours. Arriv- 
ing at the run that I had seen the bird making 
for, I sent my companion around to the point 
where she would be forced to pass, and, order- 
ing on the dog, I followed along the edge of the 
run, feeling perfectly sure that there was no 
escape for our very uncertain friend. But when 
we came to the upper end and the dog had 
carefully worked out every foot of the cover we 
found, upon comparing notes, that we did not 
career, now 
this well 
wended cover 
feel quite so sure of the result, for she most 
certainly was not there. 
There a short 
distance further on, and we decided that she 
had taken refuge there. We proceeded to in- 
vest the stronghold by deploying to the right 
left. My companion was to take position 
at the far corner while I entered the cover at 
the opposite end, We started for our respective 
posts. Some thirty yards away and right in my 
course was a patch of hazel, about the size of a 
hogshead which I passed so near that some of 
the branches brushed me, but it was not until I 
was twenty: steps beyond it that I gave it a 
thought and then I had no time for much de- 
liberation, for out from the clump came the roar 
of the quickly beating pinions of a startled 
grouse. It took me only the fractional part 
of a second to right about face and present 
Was a patch of birch cover 
and 
arms, but there was not a feather in sight. In- 
tuitively I realized that this ghost bird was 
flitting away, out of sight, under the protecting 
that bunch of hazel. Instinctively I 
loose at the center of it. At the crack of 
the gun my companion gave a cheer that filled 
my heart with unalloyed pleasure, for I well 
knew that the escape of our long sought quarry 
could never inspire a shout like that. When he 
joined me, my dog was delivering the bird into 
my hand. As I looked at it, I cut short my 
friend’s exordium upon the wildest, most crafty, 
exasperating of birds by telling him that this 
was not the bird he was holding an inquest 
upon, but only just an ordinary young bird that 
had made an ordinary mistake in leaving its 
stronghold at least an hour before the one we 
had been searching for would have stirred a 
feather. 
The only item of interest to add to this tale 
cover of 
cut 
is that our crafty friend still lives, for we did 
not get even a glimpse of her. 
There is one rather neat as well as very ex- 
asperating trick that appears to be quite gen- 
erally understood and practiced by these birds, 
for I have often been its victim in sections so 
widely distant that there is no reason to doubt 
that the whole family are up to it. The trick is 
simple and at the same time very effective. It 
is performed by the bird placing a tree, bush, or 
other obstruction between the shooter and it- 
self within the first few yards of its flight. I 
have often had occasion to grieve over this 
crooked work of my pets, and have often specu- 
lated upon the primal source of the knowledge 
of this dodge that appears to be so universally 
employed by fledgelings as well as patriarchs; 
but notwithstanding much deep study and earn- 
est thought, no solution of the problem that 
seems Satisfactory to me has yet materialized. 
I am still in doubt whether reason, natural in- 
stinct, general or special education, or some- 
thing else of which I know nothing, is the 
source of this knowledge. 
In the good old days when abundant sport 
was the sure reward of a day with the partridge, 
it was my delight to strike the trail of a wary 
bird that sought to make its escape by the use | 
I was sometimes able to defeat this | 
device, for all I had to do to secure a rise with- 
in proper distance was to give a casual glance 
at the line of the country followed by the bird 
and take note of any opening, such as a‘cart- 
path or vacant place in the undergrowth that 
crossed the bird’s course. Then I would leave 
the dog to follow the trail, and advance to the 
opening, where I often obtained a rise within 
shot, or, if the bird had crossed before my 
arrival the same tactics were pursued at the 
successive openings until the end. Those lovers 
of the deep-tangled wildwood and dense under- 
growth, very much dislike to leave the shelter 
of the thick covert to cross an open place when 
deadly foes are on their trail, and it is their 
usual habit to tarry at the edge, and this often 
leads to their destruction. Within the past few 
years, however, this has changed, and all the 
dearly bought acuteness and hardly earned 
knowledge that were once my joy and pride are 
now as naught, for scarcely one in ten of those 
up-to-date birds will allow any stratagem of 
this nature to be played on them. They. just 
go around the openings, or take flight before 
they come to them, thus giving one more proof 
that the god of reason, instinct, education or 
of its legs. 

