218 



AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. 



The next day being Saturday a friend and I went to the bridge to 

 hunt for the nest; when we were just about half way across the bridge 

 the mother Quail hopped out of the weeds and limped down the road 

 as usual. When she had limped out of sight we looked carefully over 

 the ground near the bridge but we found no sign of the nest. When 

 we returned to the top of the bridge once more my friend leaned 

 against the guard rail while we talked about the habits of Quail. 



Photo from life by C. A. Reed. 

 YELLOW-THROAT ON NEST. 



[Note the deeply cupped interior of the nest, the bifd being entirely below the rim of the 

 nest.] 



When we were ready to go home my friend gave one of the posts 

 that held up the guard rail a kick to get some of the mud oil: his shoes 

 and like a flash the mother Quail flushed from almost under his feet. 

 We looked along the top of the foundation for some distance from these 

 and found a place in the wall where a stone had become loose and fallen 

 out. Weeds and grass had grown here. In this vacant spot the Quail had 



