THE ‘‘QUAIL’’ 69 
her nest, nearly always coming up on the wing 
and alighting almost in it, and when leaving 
making a flight as soon as she is fairly clear of 
her eggs. Rarely, indeed, does she walk to or 
from her treasures, so that she may leave no 
trail for her enemies to follow to her undoing. 
Of course in all these cases the bird’s scent is 
much less because of the thorough airing out 
which the feathers get in their hustling flight, 
but I much doubt any ability to withold their 
scent in either one of them. In the case of the 
Quails more often than not it is the fault of 
the shooter in his carelessness in marking or 
of the dog in his lack of nose than that the 
birds have ‘‘retained their scent.’? However, 
should this strange disappearance of the birds 
occur it is only a matter of waiting until they 
have begun to move about,—as they will in a 
very short time—in order to get good shooting 
at the scattered members of the bevy. Once 
the flock has been well broken up the single 
birds usually hug the ground very closely 
when the dog has found them. I have almost 
caught one in my hand thinking it a bird which 
I had just seen fall and which lay within six 
feet of it. 
