d on the ground
they are Gleaners, and they never disturb grain in the ear. They have
many pretty ways, and even though their love-song is sad they are
cheerful and happy. Their 'coo-oo' sounds very gentle in the morning
chorus, and though the Dove often nests in open woods and gardens, it
seems most at home in a quiet place near water; for it is very fond of
drinking and bathing."

CHAPTER XXVII

THREE FAMOUS GAME BIRDS

"If any one should ask you which are the most famous American game
birds, you may answer without hesitation, 'Bob White, Ruffed Grouse, and
Woodcock'--the whistler, the drummer, and the sky dancer--all three good
Citizens and handsome, interesting birds.

"Bob White is the most familiar, because in spring, when he feels quite
sure that the law will protect his pretty head, he comes out of the
thick bushes to the rail fence by the roadside and calls his own
name--'Bob--white, bob--white!'--so that the shy mate he desires shall
know where to find him. Then if she is hard-hearted and a long time
coming he will say--'Bob-white, _poor_ bob-white!' as if craving for
pity.

"The last of May the nesting begins, and from then until autumn Bob
White tells his name and whereabouts to no one; for it is a very busy
season with him. The nest of leaves on the ground may yield during the
summer twenty or thirty little Bobs, whom he must help supply with food
and teach to walk about and care for themselves.

"In autumn each one of these Quail families--for Mr. Bob White is a kind
of Quail--is called a 'covey.' They take to thick brush for winter food
and shelter, being very clever at hiding from the sportsman, and only
flying from shelter when nosed out by his dog.

[Illustration: Bob White.]

"The Ruffed Grouse is also a bird of woods and brushy places, but at all
seasons is more fond of trees than Bob White. It is much larger than
Bob, and if seen among the underbrush looks like a small, brown,
speckled Hen. Watch one in the spring-time, when he is roaming the woods
in search of a mate, and you will see that he is every inch a game
bird--a king of game birds too. In early May this Grouse mounts a fallen
tree, or the rail of an old fence, and swells his breast proudly till
the long feathers on each side of his neck rise into a beautiful shining
black ruffle or tippet, such as you can see in some old-fashioned
portraits of the times when Elizabeth was queen of England. He droops
his wings and spreads