In the Sierra 



mental crest worn jauntily like a feather 

 in a boy's cap, giving it a very marked 

 appearance. This species is considerably 

 larger than the valley quail, so common 

 on the hot foothills. They seldom alight 

 in trees, but love to wander in flocks of 

 from five or six to twenty through the 

 ceanothus and manzanita thickets and over 

 open, dry meadows and rocks of the ridges 

 where the forest is less dense or wanting, 

 uttering a low clucking sound to enable 

 them to keep together. When disturbed 

 they rise with a strong birr of wing-beats, 

 and scatter as if exploded to a distance of 

 a quarter of a mile or so. After the danger 

 is past they call one another together with 

 a louder piping note, Nature's beautiful 

 mountain chickens. I have not yet found 

 their nests. The young of this season are 

 already hatched and away, - - new broods 

 of happy wanderers half as large as their 

 parents. I wonder how they live through 

 the long winters, when the ground is snow- 



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