BOB WHITE. 2r 
the buds to swell upon the trees, and Nature commences 
te rouse herself from her winter’s sleep, the clear, sharp 
call of the male bird is heard, as perched upon some 
fence rail or other elevated place in the field, he utters 
the well-known. sounds ‘‘ Bob White, ah! Bob White,” 
expressing the latent passion of love that begins to 
awaken in his brave little heart. The united family that 
happily has kept together throughout the trying winter 
has become separated, and every male member is occu- 
pied with the important duty of seeking a mate. Each 
little feathered breast is swelling with the fires of love, 
and with proud carriage and eyes flashing with the desire 
that permeates his whole body, the cock endeavors to 
secure the attention of the object of his choice, to win 
her admiration, to attract her by his proud bearing, to 
cause her to listen to his sweet, earnest tones, and to 
reciprocate the love he offers so ardently. Ah, but she 
is coy, the little buff-throated hen! only looks at her 
lover from beneath the shelter of some bush, and makes 
no reply to his ringing love song, that is uttered with in- 
creasing power and passion. He leaves his coign of 
vantage and runs toward her, puffs up his feathers for 
an instant, and then leaps upon some low stump and 
pours out the clear “ Bob White,” like a challenge to all 
the world to come and dispute his love. Again he draws 
near, but she shyly moves away, looking back at him 
meanwhile, as if half inviting him to follow. No persua- 
sion is needed for such an ardent knight, and he is by her 
side, telling his love in sweet, low tones that cause her 
to listen with less reserve to her gallant cavalier, who 
ever presses nearer, and bows before her, until capti- 
vated by his handsome presence and melodious voice, 
and with an answering love springing up in her own 
breast at length she yields a timorous consent. 
