I can imagine what a *primal scream* from a ruffed grouse might sound like.
Driving along rt. 101 through the Olympic Coast N.P. late last May (Memorial
Day, no less), I zoomed past a flock of tiny tiny birds along the side of the
road poking around a larger dead one. For some reason, *seedeaters* sprang
to mind simultaneously with *spotted owl*. I screeched to a halt and backed
up wildly hoping not to get rear-ended and get back there before someone else
flushed my *seedeaters* or ran over the *owl.* Little chance of that
however, for it turned out that it was a brood of newly hatched grouse chicks
peeping quietly, running around lost and confused, and sadly orphaned as
their mother lay squashed in the road. A wave of remorse swept over me
knowing that there was no chance what-so-ever for this unfortunate brood of
ruffed grouse. Life in the wild can seem cruel, but it's natural, but when
it comes from under the wheels of a car, it seems more so.

Richard A. Rowlett <pagodroma at aol.com>
Bellevue, WA, USA