THE BOBWHITE OR QUAIL 



Our bobwhite sleeps on the ground. The California 

 quail roosts in bushes or trees. One summer evening in 

 Santa Barbara it was my privilege to see a charming phase 

 of quail family life. I was sitting quietly under a tree on 

 a knoll that overlooked a flat shed-roof, when I heard a 

 low call, and a whirring of wings. Mother Quail, accom- 

 panied by tliirteen little balls of brown feathers, alighted 

 on the roof near me. She talked to her adorable family, 

 and, judging by their quick responses, she evidently gave 

 them numerous commands. They finally ran to the edge 

 of the roof and arranged themselves in a row, faces out- 

 ward, until she gave anotlier call. Then obediently they 

 gathered around her in a true Kindergarten Circle, heads 

 outward and tails toward her, all ready for bed. There 

 they nestled, until a passer-by disturbed them and, to my 

 great regret, they flew away. In a few minutes I heard 

 a clear loud ku-ku-kow, and on the same roof alighted 

 Father Bob with fifteen restless boys and girls — a veri- 

 table Primary Class. He had more trouble in controlling 

 them than Mother had experienced with her docile little 

 ones; they ran hither and thither in spite of his insistent, 

 anxious calls. He succeeded in gathering them about 

 him, however; but just as they were forming their circle, 

 they, too, were frightened away. 



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