This species never raises more than one brood in the season, unless the eggs have been destroyed, in which case the female immediately calls for her mate, and produces a second set of eggs, generally much smaller in number than the first. About the 1st of August, the young are as large as our little American Partridge, and are then most excellent eating. They do not acquire much strength of wing until the middle of October, and after that period they become daily more difficult to be approached. Their enemies are at this season very numerous, but the principal are the Polecat, the Racoon, the Weasel, the Wild Cat, and various Hawks.
The Pinnated Grous is easily tamed, and easily kept. It also breeds in confinement, and I have often felt surprised that it has not been fairly domesticated. While at Henderson, I purchased sixty alive, that were expressly caught for me within twelve miles of that village; and brought in a bag laid across the back of a horse. I cut the tips of their wings, and turned them loose in a garden and orchard about four acres in extent. Within a week they became tame enough to allow me to approach them without their being frightened. I supplied them with abundance of corn, and they fed besides on vegetables of various kinds. This was in the month of September, and almost all of them were young birds. In the course of the winter they became so gentle as to feed from the hand of my wife, and walked about the garden like so many tame fowls, mingling occasionally with the domestic poultry. I observed that at night each individual made choice of one of the heaps in which a cabbage had grown, and that they invariably placed their breast to the wind, whatever way it happened to blow. When spring returned, they strutted, "tooted," and fought, as if in the wilds where they had received their birth. Many laid eggs, and a good number of young ones made their appearance, but the Grous at last proved so destructive to the young vegetables, tearing them up by the roots, that I ordered them to be killed. So brave were some of the male birds, that they never flinched in the presence of a large Turkey Cock, and now and then they would stand against a dunghill cock, for a pass or two, before they would run from him.
During very severe weather, I have known this species to roost at a considerable height on trees, but they generally prefer resting on the ground. I observed that for several nights in succession, many of these Grous slept in a meadow not far distant from my house. This piece of ground was thickly covered with tall grass, and one dark night I thought of amusing myself by trying to catch them. I had a large seine, and took with me several Negroes supplied with lanterns and long poles, with the latter of which they bore the net completely off the ground. We entered the meadow in the early part of the night, although it was so dark that without a light one could hardly have seen an object a yard distant, and spreading out the leaded end of the net, carried the other end forward by means of the poles at the height of a few feet. I had marked before dark a place in which a great number of the birds had alighted, and now ordered my men to proceed towards it. As the net passed over the first Grous in the way, the alarmed bird flew directly towards the confining part of the angle, and almost at the same moment a great number of others arose, and, with much noise, followed the same direction. At a signal, the poles were laid flat on the ground, and we secured the prisoners, bagging some dozens. Repeating our experiment three times in succession, we met with equal success, but now we gave up the sport on account of the loud bursts of laughter from the Negroes, who could no longer refrain. Leaving the net on the ground, we returned to the house laden with spoil, but next evening not a Grous was to be found in the meadow, although I am confident that several hundreds had escaped.
On the ground the Pinnated Grous exhibits none of the elegance of manner observed in the Ruffed Grous, but walks more like the Common Hen, although in a more erect attitude. If surprised, it rises at once with a moderate whirring sound of the wings; but if it happens to see you at a distance, and the place is clear, it instantly runs off with considerable speed, and stops at the first tuft of high grass or bunch of briar, when it squats, and remains until put up. In newly ploughed grounds I have seen them run with all their might, their wings partially expanded, until suddenly meeting with a large clod, they would stop, squat, and disappear in a moment. During the noontide hours, several may often be seen dusting themselves near each other, either on the ploughed fields or the dry sandy roads, and rearranging their feathers in a moment, in the same manner as the Wild Turkey. Like the Common Fowls, they watch each other's motions, and if one has discovered a grasshopper, and is about to chase it, all the rest within sight of it either fly or run up to the place. When the mother of a brood is found with her young ones, she instantly ruffles up her feathers, and often looks as if she would fly at you; but this she never ventures to do, although she tries every art to decoy you from the place. On large branches of trees these birds walk with great ease, but on small ones they require the aid of their wings to enable them to walk steadily. They usually, if not always, roost singly within a few feet of each other, and on such little eminences as the ground affords. I have found them invariably fronting the wind, or the quarter from which it was to blow. It is only during the early age of the young birds that they at on the ground in a circle.
The flight of the Prairie Hen is strong, regular, tolerably swift, and at times protracted to the distance of several miles. The whirring of its wings is less conspicuous than that of the Ruffed Grous or "Pheasant" (Tetrao umbellus), and its flight is less rapid. It moves through the air with frequent beats, after which it sails with the wings bent downwards, balancing itself for a hundred yards or more, as if to watch the movements of its pursuer, for at this time they can easily be observed to look behind them as they proceed. They never rise when disturbed without uttering four or five distinct clucks, although at other times they fly off in silence. They are easily shot down by a calm sportsman, but are very apt to deceive a young hand. In the western country they rarely stand before the pointer, and I think the setter is a more profitable dog there. In the Eastern States, however, pointers, as I am informed, are principally employed. These birds rarely wait the approach of the sportsman, but often rise when he is at such a distance as to render it necessary for him to be very prompt in firing. Unlike other species, they seldom pass over you, even when you surprise them, and if the country is wooded, they frequently alight on the highest branches of the tallest trees, where they are usually more accessible. If shot almost dead, they fall and turn round on the ground with great violence until life is extinct; but when less injured, they run with great celerity to some secluded place, where they remain so quiet and silent as to render it difficult to find them without a good dog. Their flesh is dark, and resembles that of the Red Grous of Scotland, or the Spotted Grous of North America.
The curious notes emitted in the love season are peculiar to the male. When the receptacles of air, which in form, colour, and size, resemble a small orange, are perfectly inflated, the bird lowers its head to the ground, opens its bill, and sends forth, as it were, the air contained in these bladders in distinctly separated notes, rolling one after another from loud to low, and producing a sound like that of a large muffled drum. This done, the bird immediately erects itself, refills its receptacles by inhalation, and again proceeds with its tootings. I frequently observed in those Prairie Hens which I had tamed at Henderson, that after producing the noise, the bags lost their rotundity, and assumed the appearance of a burst bladder, but that in a few seconds they were again inflated. Having caught one of the birds, I passed the point of a pin through each of its air-cells, the consequence of which was, that it was unable to toot any more. With another bird I performed the same operation on one only of the cells, and next morning it tooted with the sound one, although not so loudly as before, but could not inflate the one which had been punctured. The sound, in my opinion, cannot be heard at a much greater distance than a mile. All my endeavours to decoy this species, by imitating its curious sounds, were unsuccessful, although the Ruffed Grous is easily deceived in this manner. As soon as the strutting and fighting are over, the collapsed bladders are concealed by the feathers of the ruff, and during autumn and winter are much reduced in size. These birds, indeed, seldom, if ever, meet in groups on the scratching grounds after incubation has taken place; at all events, I have never seen them fight after that period, for, like the Wild Turkeys, after spending a few weeks apart to recover their strength, they gradually unite, and as soon as the young are grown up, individuals of both sexes mix with the latter, and continue in company till spring. The young males exhibit the bladders, and elongated feathers of the neck before the first winter, and by the next spring have attained maturity, although, as in many other species, they increase in size and beauty for several years.
As I have never shot these birds in the Eastern States, and therefore cannot speak from experience of the sport which they afford, I here introduce a very interesting letter from a well known sportsman, my friend David Eckleiy, Esq., residing at Boston, who is in the habit of shooting them annually.
"Dear Sir,—I have the pleasure of sending you a brace of Grous from Martha's Vineyard, one of the Elizabeth Islands, which for many years past I have been accustomed to visit annually, for the purpose of enjoying the sport of shooting these fine birds. Nashawenna is the only other island of the group on which they are found. This, however, is a sort of preserve, as the island being small and the birds few, strangers are not permitted to shoot without the consent of the owners of the soil. It would be difficult to assign a reason why they are found upon the islands above named, and not upon others, particularly Nashann, which, being large, well wooded, and abounding in feed, seems quite as favourable to the peculiar habits of the birds.
"Fifteen or twenty years ago, I know from my own experience, it was a common thing to see as many birds in a day as we now see in a week; but whilst they have grown scarcer, our knowledge of the ground has become more extended, so that the result of a few weeks' residence of a party of three, with which I usually take the field, is ten brace of birds. Packs of twenty to fifty are now no longer seen, and the numbers have so diminished, in consequence of a more general knowledge of their value, the price in Boston market being five dollars per brace, that we rarely see of late more than ten or twelve collected together. It is often observed, however, that there is very little encouragement to be derived from the circumstance of falling in with a large number, and that the greater the pack, the more likely they are to elude the vigilance of the sportsman; though it must be acknowledged that it is a most exhilarating yet tantalizing sight, to start a large pack out of gunshot. To watch them as their wings glisten in the sun, alternately sailing, fluttering, and scooming over the undulating ground, apparently just about alighting, but exerting their strength and fluttering on once more, some old stager of the pack leading them beyond an intervening swell, out of harm's way, beyond which all is conjecture as to the extent or the direction of their flight. In such a case, it is best to follow on as quick and as straight as possible, keeping the eye fixed upon the tree or bush, which served to mark them, and after having proceeded a reasonable distance in the direction which they have flown, if a "clear" or "cutting place" should lie in the course, the birds may be confidently expected to have alighted there. They never in fact settle down where the woods are thick, or the bushes close and tangled, but invariably in some open space, and often in the roads; neither do they start from thick foliage or briary places, but seek at once to disengage themselves from all embarrassment to their flight, by attaining the nearest open space, thus offering to the sportsman the fairest mark of all game birds. It frequently happens that not one is killed on the first flight of a pack, as they are often very unexpectedly started, but on approaching them a second time with greater caution, success is more likely to follow, particularly if they have become scattered.
"Towards the middle of November, they have attained their average weight of nearly two pounds each; and nothing can be fuller, richer, or more game-like than their plumage. At this time of year, however, in sportsman's phrase, they will seldom "lie to the dog," but are easily started by every sound they hear. Even loud talking alarms them; for which reason, a high wind, which drowns the approach of danger, is the most desirable weather. A calm drizzly day is also favourable; for the birds being less likely to be disturbed by the glare of objects, venture into the old rye fields, the low edges of the wood, and the bushy pastures, to feed.