754 
Among the Birds of the JToSemite. 
up to pull down grass heads, and cluck¬ 
ing and muttering in low tones. 
Once when I was seated at the foot of 
a tree on the head-waters of the Merced, 
sketching, I heard a flock up the valley 
behind me, and by their voices gradually 
sounding nearer I knew that they were 
feeding toward me. I kept still, hoping 
to see them. Soon one came within 
three or four feet of me, without noti¬ 
cing me any more than if I were a stump 
or a bulging part of the trunk against 
which I was leaning, my clothing being 
brown, nearly like the bark. Presently 
along came another and another, and 
it was delightful to get so near a view 
of these handsome chickens perfectly un¬ 
disturbed, observe their manners, and 
hear their low peaceful notes. At last 
one of them caught my eye, gazed in si¬ 
lent wonder for a moment, then uttered 
a peculiar cry, which was followed by a 
lot of hurried muttered notes that sound¬ 
ed like speech. The others, of course, 
saw me as soon as the alarm was sound¬ 
ed, and joined the wonder talk, gazing 
and chattering, astonished but not fright¬ 
ened. Then all with one accord ran 
back with the news to the rest of the 
flock. “ What is it ? what is it ? Oh, 
you never saw the like,” they seemed to 
be saying. “ Not a deer, or a wolf, or 
a bear; come see, come see.” “ Where ? 
where ? ” “ Down there by that tree.” 
Then they approached cautiously, past 
the tree, stretching their necks, and look¬ 
ing up in turn as if knowing from the 
story told them just where I was. For 
fifteen or twenty minutes they kept com¬ 
ing and going, venturing within a few 
feet of me, and discussing the wonder 
in charming chatter. Their curiosity at 
last satisfied, they began to scatter and 
feed again, going back in the direction 
they had come from ; while I, loath to 
part with them, followed noiselessly, 
crawling beneath the bushes, keeping 
them in sight for an hour or two, learn¬ 
ing their habits, and finding out what 
seeds and berries they liked best. 
The valley quail is not a mountaineer, 
and seldom enters the park except at a 
few of the lowest places on the western 
boundary. It belongs to the brushy 
foothills and plains, orchards and wheat- 
fields, and is a hundred times more 
numerous than the mountain quail. It 
is a beautiful bird, about the size of the 
Bob White, and has a handsome crest 
of four or five feathers an inch long, 
recurved, standing nearly erect at times 
or drooping forward. The loud calls of 
these quails in the spring — Pe-check- 
ah, Pe-check-a, Hoy, Hoy — are heard 
far and near over all the lowlands. They 
have vastly increased in numbers since 
the settlement of the country, notwith¬ 
standing the immense numbers killed 
every season by boys and pot-hunters as 
well as the regular leggined sportsmen 
from the towns; for man’s destructive 
action is more than counterbalanced by 
increased supply of food from cultiva¬ 
tion, and by the destruction of their ene¬ 
mies — coyotes, skunks, foxes, hawks, 
owls, etc. — which not only kill the old 
birds, but plunder their nests. Where 
coyotes and skunks abound, scarce one 
pair in a hundred is successful in raising 
a brood. So well aware are these birds 
of the protection afforded by man, even 
now that the number of their wild ene¬ 
mies has been greatly diminished, that 
they prefer to nest near houses, notwith¬ 
standing they are so shy. Four or five 
pairs rear their young around our cot¬ 
tage every spring. One year a pair 
nested in a straw pile within four or five 
feet of the stable door, and did not leave 
the eggs when the men led the horses 
back and forth within a foot or two. 
For many seasons a pair nested in a tuft 
of pampas grass in the garden ; another 
pair in an ivy vine on the cottage roof, 
and when the young were hatched, it 
was interesting to see the parents getting 
the fluffy dots down. They were great¬ 
ly excited, and their anxious calls and 
directions to their many babes attracted 
our attention. They had no great dif- 
