and came tumbling along, just before the dog's nose, till she had drawn him to a considerable distance, when she took wing and flew still farther off, but not out of the field on this the dog returned to his master, near which place the young ones lay concealed in the grass; which the old bird no sooner perceived, than she flew back, settled just before the dog's nose again, and, by rolling and tumbling about, drew off his attention from her young, and thus preserved her brood a second time." "Two remarkable instances of the old bird's solicitude for their unfledged young ones, and exactly bearing me out in what I have said," observed Lavalette. "It is not long, however, before the young partridges learn to take care of themselves. By midsummer their wings become strong enough to bear them up. Towards the commencement of August the first tail feathers drop out; their plumage of a yellowish white, which they had when they broke the shell, shows a more decided grey, and soon the tail begins to grow again. When the plumage has attained its proper appearance, which is grey, speckled with brown and red spots, the partridges are worth shooting. Until then they offer an easy capture, unworthy of a sportsman's shot, as their flesh is soft and tasteless, not deserving the honours of the spit. "Still later than the development of the plumage, there comes at the corner of the young bird's eye, between it and the ear, a little spot of bright scarlet. Soon the breast becomes furnished with feathers of a deep rust colour, showing the form of a crescent. This crescent is not very apparent in the females, but is strongly marked in the males. "A few days more, and the young bird will become an adult, scarcely to be distinguished from the partridges of the preceding year, and it requires a practised eye then to note the difierence between them and the birds of a former season. The feet, however, of the young birds, which were yellowish from the time they were hatched, although they have gradually acquired a deeper hue, are still less grey, less scaly, less sinewy than those of the old ones. In the old bird, likewise, the first feather of the wing is rounded; but in the young bird it is pointed, in the form of a lance. Sometimes we meet with young partridges much younger than the time of year would seem to warrant. These are the late offspring of some hen bird, who, having lost her first covey, whether from the attack of noxious animals or the coldness of the temperature, has laid eggs in some other spot, and brought forth another brood. "In order that the coveys should come to any good, it is necessary that the weather should be fine, from the time the eggs are deposited until the moment that the young birds can fly. "If violent storms should arise in May or June, the nests, which have been made beneath the tufts of thick grass in the low grounds, will be immediately inundated. The eggs are chilled, or the little ones, if they have burst the shell, are drowned. Last year I saw several coveys smothered under the corn and under the haycocks thrown down by the rain. On the other hand, should the heat be too intense, the earth cracks, and the little birds fall into the crevices, where they perish. "To have good shooting, the spring must have been mild and temperate. Besides the partridge which inhabits our fields and plains, there exists another species, smaller, and of a ligher plumage, which is only seen on its passage. Magne de Marolles, who speaks of it, calls it, I think, la roquette. The ornithologists name it the partrige of the mountains.' It is met so rarely, that M. Blaze questions its existence. M. Léon Bertrand, in an article inserted in the Journal des Chasseurs, says that he killed one of them. "I can join my testimony to his; for I also have met with this species. I was shooting in the vicinity of the forest of Nogentelles, on a spot of which I knew every brake and bush, even the smallest tuft of thistles, for here were enacted the last scenes of that glorious drama inscribed in our military records under the name of the battle of Château Thierry. I could have pointed out the situation of every company, and gone through the names of the individuals that composed them. "I was therefore much astonished, upon this day, to meet a band of whose existence I had hitherto been in ignorance. They were so numerous that I became almost giddy from looking at them. "They passed at about fifteen feet above my head. I fired, and a bird fell dead at my feet. I picked it up, and was very much puzzled to know to what species it belonged, as my shot had entirely carried away the head. It was a little bigger than a large quail, and much smaller and lighter-coloured than an ordinary partridge. Yet it was an old bird, and had attained its full growth: I could see that by the feet. "In order to dispel all doubt, I went again to the charge. This time I brought down another. It was not disfigured by the shot. I could not be mistaken, it was a partridge of a small species. "I now wished to kill more; but by this time the covey, composed of at least some forty individuals, had crossed the road, and thrown themselves into the vineyards of Nesle. The vintage was not over; so I was obliged to desist. "A few days later, when the grapes were gathered in, I sought for the new comers, but in vain. I searched all the environs for them; but numerous as they had appeared, I could not find one. "I remained certain then that this was the partridge of which Magne de Marolles spoke; but in all my shooting excursions I have never met with another. "I know," said Crauford, "that modern ornithologists have ascertained that there are several varieties of partridges; but except the red, I have never seen any other kind besides the grey. "I have seen one other that I have not mentioned yet," returned Lavalette. "We will speak of it by-and-bye. Now, I wish to say something as to the spots in which we are likely to find our game; for I anticipate many pleasant excursions together, besides that of to-morrow,' he added in the most polite way possible. We both thanked him, and he went on "If the ground is parcelled out into small enclosures, the partridges will be found wherever there is a cover. Go over with great care the edges of ditches; look carefully among the trefoils and lucern; do not let a tuft of thistles escape you without having put your foot to it. "If you get amongst highly cultivated ground, you must inquire where are the wheat fields. It is in the midst of them, above every other place, that the partridges love to make their haunts. I do not mean, however, that you should neglect the standing oats. When the wheat is cut, the birds seek the oat, barley, peas, vetches, &c. There they re main as long as the crops are left standing, or are in sheaves. But when they are carried away, the partridges return to the wheat fields and the patches of grass which border them. "The reason of this is plain: the wheat has been sown before the winter; weeds and grass have had time to spring up in profusion; insects are more numerous, and the young birds find there at once food and shelter. Oats, barley, peas, and vetches are not sown until about the months of March or April; and when these crops are cut, the short stubble scarcely shows anything but bare earth; weeds have had but little time to grow, and the bird finds nothing among them either to hide itself in or feed on; it is therefore very natural that the young birds should run back to the spots which they had first inhabited. "You come on a covey of young partridges; your dog points; they all rise at the same instant; they seem to obey a sort of command, for their wings turn towards the same side as they rise, and they fly in the same direction. Old birds seldom separate, and it is very difficult then to overtake them. But young birds are like inexperienced recruitsbad hands at manoeuvring; they are frightened at the noise of the fowling-piece, and scatter themselves on every side. Divide the young birds then; as soon as they rise, fire at a little distance. They will separate, and you can pick them out one after another, as it will be much easier to get near them. Eager to unite again, the divided little birds utter a cry which serves as a rallying note. The sounds kirrh-lei, kirrh-lei are heard at short intervals. This cry, harsh and guttural, can be distinguished afar off, and resembles somewhat the creaking of an ungreased cart-wheel. "The old birds make use of the same note in the evening and early in the morning, perhaps to recall their absent companions, or, it may be, to salute the setting and the rising sun. "There is a pretty description in one of your poets (I forget his name) of partridge-shooting. Other sports are mentioned likewise, and there is a great deal about fishing. You must know it;" and Lavalette looked at me. I nodded assent. I remembered the passage he alluded to. Here it is at least I think so: "See how the well-taught pointer leads the way: The scent grows warm; he stops; he springs the prey: The fluttering coveys from the stubble rise, And on swift wing divide the sounding skies; And death in thunder overtakes their flight." This must be the passage Lavalette meant, as it was of partridgeshooting he spoke not; of taking them with the net. lines from another poet are descriptive of the latter mode: "When milder autumn summer's heat succeeds, The following Lavalette continued: "I said I was acquainted with another species of partridge. It is one, originally from North America, which we are beginning to naturalize in France. It was introduced in the reign of Louis XVI. Many of them were to be found in the domain of Rambouillet at that period; but, during the revolution, the Royal preserves were pillaged, and the birds all killed. We are now again making efforts to acclimatize them. These attempts have not been without success, and everything promises that our fields will soon be enriched with a numerous breed of these American guests. "This bird holds the middle place between the partridge and the quail. It is smaller than the first, and larger than the second. In form it resembles both; but its plumage is deeper coloured, and its flight more rapid and irregular. What renders this new acquisition so valuable is its wonderful fecundity. The female lays twenty-four eggs, and this usually twice, bringing forth two coveys! The male bird divides with her the trouble of hatching, and, when he is not on the nest, occupies himself in guiding and protecting the preceding young brood. These birds, habituated to the winters of North America, which are a great deal more severe than in our climate, have nothing to fear from our temperature. They are not exposed, like our native partridges, to see their coveys destroyed in the reaping and mowing seasons, as they do not lay their eggs either among the corn or in the meadows: their nests are almost always constructed among the bushes and briars, where the sickle of the reaper or the scythe of the mower is not likely to trouble them. "They can easily be reared in aviaries or pheasant walks, and multiply in this state of slavery as freely as if at liberty. "These birds are now to be found in the Crown lands, and are mentioned among the game killed by His Majesty in the forest of Rambouillet on the 6th of October, 1854. Several individuals have likewise let go pairs on their grounds. "This American partridge is by some people designated as the American quail; but, if in its form a resemblance may be traced to that bird, it has neither its wandering nor pugnacious habits. "And this brings us to the quail-to those pretty travellers which arrive every year to fill the nets of our fowlers. "The quail-in Greek ortyx, in Latin coturnix, in Spanish codorniz, in Italian quaglia-belongs, as well as the partridge, to the order of gallinaceous birds. In its plumage it very much resembles the partridge, but it is smaller. However, there are very small partridges and very large quails, so that the size alone does not form the distinction. "The distinctive marks of the quail are, that round the eye there is never any space devoid of feathers, as in the partridge, and that the beak is shorter and differently shaped. But it differs from it, above all, in its quarrelsome and unsociable character. Quails never stay together; the young ones, stronger than those of the partridge, only remain with the parent bird whilst they feel themselves helpless. As soon as they can fly they leave her and go, each one its own way. "The ancients knew the belligerent propensities of this bird, and quail-fighting was a favourite amusement among the Athenians. They would not, however, eat it—delicate as it is-from the idea that it fed upon the white hellebore. "There is so much of inconstancy in the nature of the quail, that it is only necessary to counterfeit the note of the female in order to lure all the males within hearing, even those which have already paired. "Sometimes the male bird does not come alone to the quail-pipe; his jealous mate, who does not choose that he should quit her, throws herself likewise into the snare of the fowler. But what is most remarkable in this bird is the instinct which, at a certain period, teaches it to seek a change of climate. Every year, towards the beginning of April, the quails quit the shores of Asia and Africa, cross the Mediterranean, and alight upon our coasts. "Since the days of Pliny numerous stories have been related touching their migration. But observations sufficiently precise to determine what wind brings them have never yet been made. Martinez d'Espinar says -and there are many other authors of like opinion-that they fly before the wind, and that when they are tired they repose on the waters, raising one wing and making use of it as a sail. It must be observed, however, that birds in general do not fly well before the wind; it blows up their feathers, ruffles them, and renders it impossible for them to take a long flight. "A clever writer in the Journal des Chasseurs says that quails never migrate from Africa into Europe by a south wind; and that, if on their arrival the wind should change to the south, they rest upon the flat shores until it has shifted, and then retake their route. "If a south wind should surprise them in their flight across the oceans, they are found to change their route immediately, and seek countries different from those to which they first directed their course. This explains the reasons why in some years these birds are not to be seen." RAMBLES ALONG THE TROUT AND SALMON RIVERS AND LAKES IN THE SOUTH OF IRELAND. "Tis sweet to view the limpid waters dance As through the mead meandering they gush- From out the willow or o'erhanging bush. Armed with your pliant rod, to spend a happy day. From Derry Castle upwards past Derry House, the residence of Francis Spaight, Esq., father of the present member for Limerick, we met few fish, but they were all large; indeed, on this shore we did not kill a trout under three pounds weight. After some debating I proposed, and it was agreed, that we should cross the lake at this point, and fish along the other shore to the Lusshoughs; fish round them into the bay of Mountshannondaley, and then pull home, about seven miles. The lake where we crossed was rather X |