If June proves wet, despair reigns in the partridge keeper's breast.
With hopeless eyes he looks forward to the coming season. One keeper
of our acquaintance, one wet midsummer, a time when, in a promising
season, he would have had no moment to spare from the care of his young
birds, married, and went for a honeymoon. "Lor' love ye," said another,
weary of June rain, "I might just as well 've bin in bed for a month
past." A common remark made by keepers in a rainy June is the mournful
plaint, "Ye don't see no feetmarks on the roads, but old un's."
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