“Now you know what the greatest danger is,” said Thunderer. “Never fly until you know just where the hunter is, and then fly back of a bush or a tree, the bigger the better, or drop over the edge of a bank if there is one. Make as much noise as you can when you get up. It may startle the hunter so that he cannot point his fire-stick straight. If he has no dog, it is sometimes best to lie still until he has passed and then fly silently. If there is no tree or other cover near enough when you first see the dog, run swiftly until you reach a place where it will be safe to take wing.”
For the next few weeks it seemed as if from daylight to dark the woods were filled with dogs and hunters, and Tommy knew no hour of peace and security until the coming of night. Many a dreadful tragedy did Tommy see when companions, less cunning than old Thunderer, were stricken in mid-air and fell lifeless to the ground. But he, learning quickly and doing as Thunderer did, escaped unharmed.
At last the law, of which Tommy knew nothing, put an end to the murder of the innocents, and for another year the greatest danger was over. But now came a new danger. It was the month of madness. Tommy and all his companions were seized with an irresistible desire to fly aimlessly, blindly, sometimes in the darkness of night, they knew not where. And in this mad flight some met death, breaking their necks against buildings and against telegraph wires. Where he went or what he did during this period of madness, Tommy never knew; but when it left him as abruptly as it had come, he found himself in the street of a village.
With swift strong wings he shot into the air and headed straight back for the dear Green Forest, now no longer green save where the hemlocks and pines grew. Once back there, he took up the old life and was happy, for he felt himself a match for any foe. The days grew shorter and the cold increased. There were still seeds and acorns and some berries, but with the coming of the snow these became more and more scarce and Tommy was obliged to resort to catkins and buds on the trees. Between his toes there grew little horny projections, which were his snowshoes and enabled him to get about on the snow without sinking in. He learned to dive into the deep soft snow for warmth and safety. Once he was nearly trapped there. A hard crust formed in the night and, when morning came, Tommy had hard work to break out.
So the long winter wore away and spring came with all its gladness. Tommy was fully as big as old Thunderer now and just as handsome, and he began to take pride in his appearance and to strut. One day he came to an old log, and, jumping up on it, strutted back and forth proudly with his fan-like tail spread its fullest and his broad ruff raised. Then he heard the long rolling thunder of another grouse drumming. Instantly he began to beat his wings against the air, not as in flying, but with a more downward motion, and to his great delight there rolled from under them that same thunder. Slowly he beat at first and then faster and faster, until he was forced to stop for breath. He was drumming! Then he listened for a reply.
Drum—drum—drum—drum—drum, drum, drum, dr-r-r-r-r-r-rum. Tommy’s eyes flew open. He was sitting on the old wishing-stone on the edge of the Green Meadows. For a minute he blinked in confusion. Then, from over in the Green Forest, came that sound like distant thunder, drum—drum—drum—drum—drum, drum, drum, dr-r-r-r-r-r-rum.
“It’s ol’ Thunderer again on that beech log!” cried Tommy. “And now I know how he does it. He just beats the air. I know, because I’ve done it myself. Geewhilikens, I’m glad I’m not really a partridge! Bet I’ll never hunt one after this, or let anybody else if I can help it. Isn’t this old wishing-stone the dandy place to learn things, though! I guess the only way of really knowing how birds and animals live and feel is by being one of ’em. Somehow it makes things look all different. Just listen to ol’ Thunderer drum! I know now just how fine he feels. I’m going to get Father to put up a sign and stop all shooting in our part of the Green Forest next fall, and then there won’t be any greatest danger there.”
And Tommy, whistling merrily, started for home.