BOB WHITES AT HOME 
“Shrill and clear from coppice near, 
A song within the woodland ringing. 
The treble note from a silver throat 
The siren of the fields is singing— 
Bob-bob-white! 
And from the height the answer sweet 
Floats faintly o’er the rippling wheat— 
Bob-white!” 
Marion Franklin Ham. 
(OR days prior to the nesting season, I had been hearing 
1 the nuptial call of a male Bob White. It seemed to 
emanate from a ragweed field inclosed by an old rail 
:e, which w r as fringed by oak, walnut and beech trees, with a 
mor6 or less heavy undergrowth of briers. 
One Summer afternoon in early June, after an all-day un- 
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ressful search for the elusive nest of an oven bird, I was 
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coming through the ragweed field, along the fence, when $ 
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brovvii' flash and a whir of wings startled me from my reveries' 
Immediately all alert, I carefully searched among the weechr. 
and greenbriers at this point, and was finally rewarded by dis-A? " 
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fil. V. 
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fing a simple nest lined with grasses and leaves, at the iti- 
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tei;section of the old decayed rails. The nest contained sixteen 
