A BOBWHITE FAMILY 141 



came near, the young of the first brood would take wing 

 arid seek safety in flight. On sounding pinions they would 

 burst away with a loud whirr from the very feet of the 

 astonished intruder. Rising but a few yards from the 

 earth they would soar rapidly away to a safe distance and 

 alight again on the ground. The baby ones would run 

 peeping to the nearest leaf or stick or bunch of grass 

 beneath which they could hide. 



Thus living together they spent the summer, making 

 their daily rounds through meadow and field and forest; 

 the parents ever watchful for enemies, the young growing 

 larger, swifter of foot, and stronger of wing, while each 

 hour bore them farther and farther from the days of baby- 

 hood. 



One evening the bobwhite family settled to roost in the 

 long wire grass which grows everywhere in the pine woods. 

 The tall trees wore their habitual coverings of slender 

 green needles, but the bright colors which painted the 

 leaves of the deciduous trees at the back of the farm 

 quickly revealed to the eye that autumn had come. 



Only twelve of the partridge family of thirty now re- 

 mained. Their history, like the history of every bird 

 family, had been a series of tragedies, as one by one their 

 numbers fell a prey to some enemy, a fate which sooner or 

 later must befall even the strongest and the swiftest bird. 



