64 FEATHERED GAME 
same covey are found birds differing widely in 
degree of coloring. 
‘“‘Bob White’’ starts up in the morning, 
shakes out his feathers, and leaving the little 
circle which with his mates he has formed for 
the night—heads outward, everyone, so that 
each member shall have plenty of space for ac- 
tion if forced to fly—he trips away across the 
dewy fields for his favorite feeding grounds. 
Here he arrives about the time the sun has 
warmed the air and the world has fairly thrown 
off its slumber. Across the sunny meadows he 
takes his way, pausing to pick a berry here, 
and gathering in now a cricket, now a grass- 
hopper, and putting away a good breakfast 
with a hearty relish. The ripening wheat, the 
buckwheat fields, or the corn-patch, if it is in 
a quiet place, is likely to receive a visit from 
him. In fact, almost any spot, whether brush 
or open, is apt to hold him if there is a dainty 
there which he appreciates. 
The quail man’s heart is glad: there is a lull 
in the money-getting and he finds again a 
chance to tread the fields and brushy corners 
so dear from the memories of glorious days of 
sport. His hour has come at last. Over the 
