But when the spring came, and the long rolling drum-calls began
to throb through the budding woods, he retired to his middle
range on the ridge, and marched from one end to the other,
driving every other cock grouse out of hearing, and drubbing him
soundly if he dared resist. Then, after a triumph, you would hear
his loud drum-call rolling through the May splendor, calling as
many wives as possible to share his rich living.

He had two drumming logs on this range, as I soon discovered; and
once, while he was drumming on one log, I hid near the other and
imitated his call fairly well by beating my hands on a blown
bladder that I had buttoned under my jacket. The roll of a grouse
drum is a curiously muffled sound; it is often hard to determine
the spot or even the direction whence it comes; and it always
sounds much farther away than it really is. This may have
deceived the old beech partridge at first into thinking that he
heard some other bird far away, on a ridge across the valley
where he had no concern; for presently he drummed again on his
own log. I answered it promptly, rolling back a defiance, and
also telling any hen grouse on the range that here was another
candidate willing to strut and spread his tail and lift the
resplendent ruff about his neck to win his way into her good
graces, if she would but come to his drumming log and see him.

Some suspicion that a rival had come to his range must have
entered the old beech partridge's head, for there was a long
silence in which I could fancy him standing up straight and stiff
on his drumming log, listening intently to locate the daring
intruder, and holding down his bubbling wrath with difficulty.