238 RAMBLES AFTER SPORT. 



Jake then set to work, and in a short time rigged up 

 quite a respectable bush -tent of branches and blankets, 

 I meanwhile frying the bacon and slapjacks. 



After oar frugal meal we set off together, and for some 

 time we had as pretty shooting as a man could wish. 

 The covert was a sort of chapparal almost knee-deep, 

 interspersed with thick bushes, just the very place for 

 quail. We had no dog with us, as unless Ponto has been 

 especially trained for this purpose, he is worse than 

 useless. Of all the birds I know of, not one can compare 

 with the California quail in celerity of flight, and in the 

 quickness with which it gets under way ; they are no 

 sooner flushed than they are off at full speed ; luckily for 

 the shooter, they almost invariably fly straight away, 

 with no turning or twisting, or they would be the most 

 difficult bird to kill in the world. They run like hares, 

 and tree like woodpigeons; I frequently lay down, and 

 looking through the stalks of the chapparal saw small 

 coveys of three or four creeping along like rabbits. The 

 best time to shoot them is early in the morning and late 

 at evening when they are feeding, and it is best to drive 

 them gradually to a large clump of trees or any open 

 ground and shoot them in detail, if you can ; but they 

 are most exceedingly shy and cunning, and it is no 

 uncommon thing for a good shot to be surrounded 

 almost by them, and yet only bag half a dozen. When 

 I state that a quail will carry off almost any amount 

 of shot, I have said enough to show that a good bag of 

 them is thought something of in California. When he 

 is shot and broiled, only a woodcock on toast can com- 

 pare with him. Well, we jogged along till the sun got 

 hot, and the birds had evidently gone to the tussocks to 

 digest their morning meal, and as our bags were pretty 



