The Valley Quail 159 



had never pointed a California quail, and the birds lay 

 so close and long that he was fairly bewildered, but 

 suddenly a quail rose almost under his nose, and came 

 whizzing toward me, aimed for my head. I dodged, 

 whirled about, and killed the quail exactly behind me 

 almost out of range. 



If the birds can be kept in the open in low brush, 

 the sport conducted in this way is excellent, and the 

 slopes of Laguna to the sea are an attractive place. 

 Often the birds fly to the nearest hill, and you see 

 them, with wings set, pitching over a divide and plung- 

 ing into the chaparral like shots out of a rapid-firing gun. 

 Then comes the whit-w hit-whit, and if you were there 

 you would see a few birds in the limbs watching you, while 

 the others were walking upward with incredible speed, 

 reaching the summit, perhaps, and leading the tyro a 

 long and profitless climb. 



Before the green has left the lowlands, and when the 

 land is still running riot with flowers, early in April, the 

 quail, or valley partridge, begins to nest, and the period 

 extends far into the summer. The nest is often placed 

 in an obscure place. It may be in your garden, or 

 beneath a sage-brush, and I have found them in the 

 Arroyo Seco, near water, hidden in a mass of vines, the 

 bird darting out and trying every artifice to coax me 

 away. From nine to twenty-three eggs have been found, 

 but the average is from sixteen to seventeen. The 

 young are able to run when a day or two old, and 

 present an attractive sight, running in long lines. In a 



