The Valley -Quail of California z^S 



Only last August 20th, 1901, while hunting deer 

 on the Santa Monica Mountains, some thirty 

 miles from Los Angeles, California, I saw thou- 

 sands of quail, many of which were not yet full 

 grown. None trotted along the trail ahead of me 

 as in the olden time, but all rose wild, and made 

 long flights, whether I was on foot or horseback. 

 Instead of two hundred or over, the best experts 

 are now content with thirty or forty, while fifty is 

 a big bag even where birds are the most plenty. 

 And nearly all are ready now to concede, what I 

 claimed twenty years ago, that twenty-five quail 

 in a day afford all the sport, exercise of skill, and 

 recreation that any reasonable person should 

 desire. 



Once good shooting could be had without a 

 dog because the flocks were so noisy one could 

 locate them by the ear more quickly than the dog 

 could by scent. But now a dog is almost a neces- 

 sity on most grounds, to find the birds in the first 

 place, as well as to keep track of them after rising. 

 And he must be a marvel of speed and endurance, 

 a salamander in heat and dry air, a paragon of 

 patience and obedience, or the wily game will give 

 him the slip and leave him too hot and breathless 

 to be of use for some time. And he must be an 

 equal marvel of good sense, and his master still 

 more so, or the excitement will be too much for 

 him. California is breeding dogs equal to the 



