Bob White. 227 



the vision of the hunter, that, trusting to them, they will sit 

 immovable until he has gone some distance beyond, when 

 they will spring up and away like so many arrows, requiring 

 a quick eye and a steady hand to turn and drop a brace. 



When ultimately flushed, they fly to some particular covert, 

 and so long as this thicket or fern-brake remains undiscovered, 

 will repeatedly repair to it for safety and security. A rather 

 curious circumstance, which has created no little discussion 

 among American sportsmen, materially aids their conceal- 

 ment. When alighting, after being flushed, the Quail is said 

 to give out no scent for some little time. This is supposed 

 to be a voluntary act of retention of odor on the part of the 

 bird, as a conscious method of protection. Some, while 

 admitting the fact, believe it to be a power belonging to 

 particular bevies, at least in a far greater degree than to 

 others, like the custom of alighting upon the branches of 

 trees when frightened, while others restrict the faculty to 

 particular individuals rather than bevies. Our earlier ornitholo- 

 gists do not mention the retention of scent. It is probable, 

 as claimed by a few, that Quails' swift running over the dry 

 leaves of upland woods or meadows allows little time and a 

 poor surface for the transmission of the scent, and that when 

 they drop suddenly and remain quiet no effluvium escapes, 

 but which only becomes disseminated the very instant they 

 move. 



The open fields being smitten by the wild winds of Novem- 

 ber, arid the reeds bruised and broken, the Quail retreats to 

 the depths of the swamp or the shelter of a dense thicket, 

 where he keeps life in him as best he can during the cold, 

 stormy days, hunting the stubble and swamp for soft-shelled 

 nuts and seeds, torpid beetles, and the hard fruits and seed- 

 cases of grasses and weeds, some of which, the skunk 

 cabbage for example, tainting his flesh with their flavor. 

 Huddled together the forlorn covey allow the snow to cover 

 them, trusting to shake it off on the return of the morning, 

 but occasionally a crust freezes upon the surface, and the 



