A friend, to whom I am indebted for many valuable notes on various birds, tells me that when a covey of Partridges are disturbed by a pack of hounds, they lie close at first, as if terrified by the noise and bent on concealing themselves; but when the pack actually comes on them they rise to a great height, and fly to a distance which may be measured by miles--at least, so he supposes, as he has watched them diminish and fade from the sight before they showed any sign of preparing to alight.
The Partridge, though decorated with no brilliant colours, which would tend to thwart it in its habit of concealing itself among vegetation of the same general hue as itself, is a beautiful bird. Its gait is graceful, its feet small and light, its head well raised; and its plumage, though devoid of striking contrasts, is exquisitely pencilled, each feather on the back and breast being veined like the gauzy wings of a fly. The most conspicuous part of the plumage of the male bird, the horseshoe on its breast, is invisible as it walks or crouches, and the general tone approaches that of the soil.
Partridges pair early in the year; but the hen does not begin to lay until May, nor to sit until towards the beginning of June. The nest is merely a depression in the ground, into which a few straws or dead leaves have been drawn. It is sometimes placed among brushwood under a hedge, but more frequently in the border of a field of hay, clover, or corn, or in the wide field itself. The mowing season, unfortunately, is not noted in the calendar of Nature; so the mother-bird, who is a close sitter, is not unfrequently destroyed by the scythe, or, at all events, is driven away, and returns to find her eggs carried off to be entrusted to the care of a domestic hen. In unusually wet seasons, nests which have been fixed in low situations are flooded, and the eggs being thus reduced to a low temperature become addle. When this has taken place, the Partridge makes a second laying, and a late brood is reared.
Notwithstanding this, however, Partridges are exceedingly prolific, and are said to be increasing in numbers in proportion as new lands are reclaimed from the waste, although the Red-legged Partridge has lessened its numbers in some districts. It must certainly be admitted that, in bad seasons, they are treated with a consideration that would scarcely be shown towards them if they were simply destroyers of grain and had nothing to recommend them as objects of sport or as delicacies for the table. When abundant, they fall freely before the sportsman's gun; but when the coveys are either small or few, they are treated with forbearance, and enough are left to stock the preserves for the ensuing year.