A RUFFED GROUSE NEST
“Whir-r-r-r-r-r-r—clip-clip-clip—” Heavens! what was that? Anyhow, it’s gone, and nobody’s hurt. How well I recall the startling sound that checked in an instant my headlong pursuit of a baby cottontail rabbit when, from the leaves almost beneath my feet, up sprang a feathered projectile with thundering wings, which sped away in headlong flight through whirling leaves and bending twigs, disappearing in an instant in the thick of the trees. There I (aged eight) stood, gazing after this new wonder, while little Cottontail made good its escape. I had seen my first grouse, the king of game birds.
YOUNG GROUSE
Confident that they are hidden from the camera man.
In the North this grouse is known as the partridge; Southerners recognize it as the pheasant; but how few of us know more about it! How few realize that it flies quietly when undisturbed, or that it has a variety of notes, ranging from the soft, cooing mother’s call to the harsh scream or squeal with which she hurls herself at some enemy of her brood. Many have heard the drumming of the male, “Thump—thump—thump—thump, thump; thump, thump-rup, rup rup rup r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r”; but how many know that some seasons in some localities they do not drum at all? And why not?
RUFFED GROUSE ON NEST
This picture was taken by leaving the camera set all night. The bird itself pulled a thread which released the shutter early in the morning.
In my notebooks the nest of the ruffed grouse figures as a hollow in the ground, lined with dead leaves or pine needles. The eggs range from seven to twelve; in one case fifteen. The mother does not commonly cover them on leaving the nest; although a bird was once seen to do so by dropping straws and leaves on her back and then sliding out from under.