THE MASSENA QUAIL. 



(Cyrtonyx Massena.) 



THIS beautiful species is said to 

 be by far the most gentle and 

 unsuspicious of our quails, and 

 will permit a very close ap 

 proach by man, showing little or no 

 fear of what most animals know so 

 well to be their most deadly enemy. 

 While feeding they keep close together, 

 and constantly utter a soft clucking 

 note, as though talking to one another. 

 This species is about the size of the 

 eastern variety. Its head is ornamented 

 with a beautifully full, soft occipital 

 crest. The head of the male is singu 

 larly striped with black and white. 

 The female is smaller and is quite dif 

 ferent in color, but may be recognized 

 by the generic characters. The tail 



is short and full, and the claws very 

 large. 



The quail makes a simple nest on 

 the ground, under the edge of some 

 old log, or in the thick grass on the 

 prairie, lined with soft and well-dried 

 grass and a few feathers. From fifteen 

 to twenty-four white eggs are laid. 

 The female sits three weeks. The 

 young brood, as soon as they are fairly 

 out of the shell, leave the nest and 

 seem abundantly strong to follow the 

 parent, though they are no bigger than 

 the end of one's thumb covered with 

 down. The massena quail is an in 

 habitant of the western and south 

 western states. 



IN THE OLD LOG HOUSE. 



BY BERTHA SEAVEY SAUNIER. 



THE big orchard on the Triggs 

 place was also the old orchard. 

 Grandpa Triggs had planted it 

 long ago in his young days when 

 the country was new. The year before 

 he had hauled logs from yonder forest 

 with his ox-team and built the strong 

 little house that still stands at the foot 

 of the orchard. 



He brought young crab trees, too, 

 and set them all about the house and 

 though, after the orchard was started, 

 he often threatened to cut them down, 

 he never did it and they grew into a 

 tangle of friendship and protection 

 until the little one-roomed house was 

 nearly hidden. 



The house was desolate now. The 

 catbirds built their nests in the crotches 

 of the crabs and the jays came over 

 from the woods across the river and 

 quarreled wjth them. An old zigzag 

 rail fence separated the orchard from 

 the hay- field at one end and a tall 

 uncared-for osage hedge did scant 



duty at two sides. Once in a great 

 while a sheep would leave the after 

 math and step through the wide spaces 

 of the hedge and, entering the doorless 

 house, would walk curiously about and 

 then return. But that was all no, not 

 quite all. The children built fires in 

 the great fireplace and roasted potatoes 

 or experimented at cooking carrots, 

 artichokes, apples and occasionally a 

 pair of kidneys rolled each in several 

 thicknesses of brown paper and slowly 

 cooked under the hot ashes and coals. 

 To be sure, the smoke came out into the 

 room and got into the children's eyes 

 and passed out at the door for the 

 chimney had crumbled to half its old 

 time height but the playtimes went on 

 in spite of that and the birds shouted 

 and sang outside. 



One would expect that all this activ 

 ity above board to be happily interested 

 without looking for new and startling 

 circumstances under ground. But, 

 withal, life went on among the "under- 



158 



