"The next number on our program will be a waltz," said the chairman. "A waltz," I thought; "grouse waltzing; whoever heard of such a thing?" Just then a handsome young capercailzie came to the log. It is not strange they are called the "cocks-of-the-wood," for they are certainly the handsomest of the grouse family. He puffed out his feathers, strutted back and forth on the log and began his waltz. It was a comical sight! While he was dancing he kept up the oddest singing--all on one note. Soon a black cock joined him and then they tried to show off. Some hens favored the capercailzie and some gathered around the black cock. At last all took sides, and it would have ended in a fight, only the dignified chairman stopped the dance and told them to remember that this was not a fight, but a jubilee. The cocks lowered their wings, but I believe they will fight it out sometime. "Let us hear from the red grouse; let us hear from the red grouse!" cried several birds at once. A small bird with rich red-brown plumage came to the log. "This is the first time I have ever been away from Great Britain," said the red grouse, "and I must be back for the 12th of August. That is an exciting day! All summer my wife and I keep with the children and live in peace, but on that day the hunters come. It is great fun to wait till they come very near and then whiz past so quickly that the shot does not reach you!" "Great fun, indeed!" muttered the ptarmigan; "fun for the hunter to slay his thousands every year." "Yes, that is true," replied the red grouse, "but we live in safety all the year except the hunting season. The keepers and the hunters keep the eagle and the fox and all our foes away, and our family of red grouse in Scotland is larger now than before the hunters came. It is because we are on the moors that all the wealthy people come to Scotland in August. Thousands of strangers fill the land, and they all come for us, the little red grouse who live only on British moors. We are proud of the fact that we are the only bird that belongs to Great Britain alone. We take care of our young together, my mate and I, and in October we join other families and fly to the uplands." Just here the hens of the capercailzie and the black cock began a noisy clatter. "I wish our husbands were like the red grouse," said one. "I think it is a perfect shame," said another; "my mate never stays near the nest. When I must leave the eggs to hunt for food he is never there to keep them warm." "I wish I were a willow grouse or a red grouse," said another demure little hen. The black cocks and the capercailzie looked rather ashamed; even the chairman hung his head, but he quickly called the hens to order, saying: "Now we will hear from our American friend, the ruffed grouse."