Dr. E. Coues — Field Notes on Lophortyx gambeli. 51 



It was late in July when I arrived at my destination in Ari- 

 zona, where, as I soon learned, the Quails were exceedingly 

 abundant. Almost my first act, ornithologically speaking, was 

 to stumble upon a brood just out of the egg ; but the active 

 little chicks scrambled off and hid themselves so dexterously 

 that I could not catch one. I remember that I then mistook 

 them for the Oreortyx pictus, from the shape of the crest, which 

 at an early age is not at all recurved ; and also that I wondered 

 to find newly-hatched birds so late in the season. But through- 

 out the month of August I met with broods only a few days 

 old. The following year, old birds were found mated by 

 April 25th, and I saw the first chick on the 1st June. The 

 species must, then, be engaged in incubation, at least in the 

 latitude where I made my observations, during the whole of 

 May, June, July, and part of August ; and I think it pro- 

 bable that they raise two, or possibly sometimes three broods a 

 year. The largest numbers that I have ever seen in a brood 

 were between fifteen and twenty; the smallest, six or eight. By 

 the 1st October, though I occasionally met with half-grown 

 birds, the majority were already nearly or quite as large as the 

 parent, and so strong of wing as legitimately to warrant the 

 sportsman's attention. 



As long as the young broods require the care of the parents, 

 they keep very close together, and when alarmed either run 

 away so rapidly, or squat so pertinaciously, as to be very difficult 

 to flush ; and when forced up, they fly off in close company, 

 and generally quickly alight again. At this time they take to 

 low limbs of trees and to bushes, as often as, or, as I have some- 

 times thought, oftener than to the ground. There they sit still, 

 closely huddled together, and, fancying themselves concealed, 

 admit of a very close approach. Later in the season, however, 

 when fully mature, they much more rarely take to trees, and 

 are far more watchful and difficult of approach. The first inti- 

 mation that a bevy is near is invariably a single note, quickly 

 repeated two or three times, followed by a rustling of dry 

 leaves as the flock starts to run. The next step towards 

 them, and they are off with a whirr, scattered like shot in every 

 direction. 



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