FRIENDS IN FEATHERS 



for all nature was very busy that morning. We took a rare 

 butterfly, located a Cuckoo nest, a Woodpecker tree, a Song 

 Sparrow's bush, and found a fine specimen of cardinal flower, 

 which is not common in this locality. 



On the way back to the carriage, from under our very feet 

 Mother Quail arose with a whirr, while there was a breath of faint 

 peeps. We were in the midst of the seventeen youngsters. I 

 dropped to my knees and began combing the grass with my 

 fingers. The first sweep brought up a tiny ball of fluff with a 

 black striped back, the second another. By that time Bob 

 had one, then I had another; my hands were full of Quail now 

 and no place to put them. Bob came with a second chick so 

 what to do with them was a serious problem, for their little legs 

 flew. 



Then Bob sighted another baby and in desperation stuffed the 

 two he held into the front of his flannel shirt. I handed over mine 

 and in they went also. Then We hunted Quail by hand. The 

 sun was hot and it was warm work, but we had eight before we 

 quit ; that was all we felt we could manage at once. What to do 

 with them became the next question. 



The grass was high, so there was no chance where we were. 

 I suggested taking them back to the nest. But that was in high 

 grass also. Bob had a better plan. He knew where there had 

 been a Quail-nest in an adjoining wheat field, beside a big stone. 

 We could have a better opportunity there, and one egg remained 

 in the nest. Also it was close the carriage and would save moving 

 the cameras far, so I welcomed the suggestion. 



I set up the camera, focussed on the nest, bent back the wheat, 

 left the unhatched egg as it lay, and announced I was ready. Bob 

 produced the Quail. I held them until he found all of them and 

 then we placed them in the nest. Over the stone and into the 

 wheat they darted like weasels. Two were lost completely be- 



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