When cold weather and snow come, the rabbit is apt to desert his snuggery in the fields for a home in some well-built stone wall. Then the boy hunter lets the rabbit betray himself, and very plainly he does it; for no boy who is once shown a rabbit track in newly fallen snow can ever mistake for it the track of any other animal: two dots before, and two behind, like this, · · :, are the rabbit's handwriting, and a little skill soon traces him to his hiding-place.
To secure game birds requires more skill with the gun, and a more intimate knowledge of their habits. Our principal game birds in the Eastern States are the woodcock, the quail, and the ruffled grouse, or, as it is called in some States, the partridge. Of these the woodcock is the most mysterious, and by epicures the most highly prized. It is the only one of the group that seeks a warmer climate in winter.
With the first advent of spring weather the woodcock returns, often nesting so early that the spring floods destroy its eggs. By the first of July the young birds are almost grown, and in too many States the law allows them to be killed after that date. The summer woodcock is, however, no such bird as it will become if allowed to moult, and then to grow fat in the corn fields and brakes. October finds it strong of wing, ready for a night flight of many miles; then it may be sought not only in the low grounds, but on the alder-covered hill-sides.
The quail is the best known of all our game birds, because of its remaining with us all the year round, because of its easily recognized note, "Bob White," and because, timid as it is, it loves civilization, and lives on cultivated lands.
The ruffled grouse may be called the king of our Northern game birds. Delighting in mountains and thick swamps, wild, and strong of wing, the hunter who brings one down when under full headway must be of steady nerve, quick sight, and skillful with long practice.
If a modern artist were to draw a sketch to illustrate an article on our hunting season, it would have to differ very much from the pretty picture on the preceding page. The spear and cross-bow are weapons unknown to modern American hunters, and instead of the winding of the horn, there is only the shrill note of the dog whistle. And we may say, Alas the change! The spear was not always thrown aright; it and the arrow hit but one object at a time, and had a limit to their flight. But nowadays, with our highly trained dogs, and our ever-loaded breech-loading guns, able to mow down a whole flock at once, what chance has bird or animal, however well provided by nature with means of safety?
Little is the wonder that our game grows scarcer year by year. With no vast landed estates, as in England, to be kept stocked and preserved, it will not be very long before woodcock, quail, and grouse will be curiosities even to the farmers' boys, who will have to invent some new pleasure to take the place of the hunting sports of which their grandfathers will tell them.
