The Valley Quail—so called in contradistinction to the Plumed or Mountain Quail, which inhabits hills and highlands—has an exceedingly limited range. It abounds in all the valleys of California and Oregon, both inland and maritime, but never in the forest-depths, nor on the mountain-tops, nor in the interior basin where there is a dearth of water and vegetation. In the spring of 1857 these birds were introduced into Washington Territory, on the grassy plains near Puget Sound, where they soon established themselves.

According to Dr. Cones, who has paid special attention to the distribution of our birds, the present species ranges from the Columbia River to Cape St. Lucas. In California it is chiefly restricted to the country west of the Sierra Nevada, which, with the Great Colorado Desert, is said to constitute an apparently impassable barrier between it and Gambel's Partridge—a very near relative. Up the mountains a higher elevation than three or four thousand feet is never known to be attained, the region beyond being occupied by the Mountain Quail.

Prairies and grain-fields, and thickets along the borders of streams, are noted places of resort. Coveys of from a dozen to a hundred or more individuals may be seen in such places, during the non-breeding season, busily employed in gleaning, or in some sort of diversion. Although comparatively tame, and permitting a very near approach, yet when disturbed, they betake themselves to the bushes or trees. When to the latter, they squat so closely along the branches, as to escape the keen sight of pursuers. It will not lie to a dog, as our Eastern species is wont to do, but runs until driven to seek safety in flight.

Throughout California these birds are often domesticated, and made to consort with the common barnyard fowl. A similar practice might be tried in the East with happy results. That it would succeed, there can be no reasonable doubt. A few years ago, an attempt was made to introduce them into Long Island, which was only partially successful. But the demands of New York epicures soon led to their extermination.

The season of flocking being over, which continues from the first of September until about the middle of May, as nearly as we can ascertain, the coveys break up into pairs, and mating is about to commence. This important event is heralded by certain peculiar cries which the male-birds emit while sitting upon a stump or prostrate log in the midst of the surrounding verdure. These notes are very strange, and may be likened to the harsh and disagreeable tones of some of the Woodpeckers. "They may be aptly represented," says Dr. Newberry, "by the syllables kÛck-kuck-kÛck-kÂ, the first three notes being rapidly repeated, the last prolonged with a falling inflection."

Language can hardly describe the actions of the males during these times. While some may be seen strutting along some fallen log, or gesticulating overhead on the motionless tree-branches, others, less lofty in their aspirations, move with dignified demeanor in and out the bushes, untrammeled by interlacing grasses. All, however, seem animated by one common impulse—the admiration and favor of birds less beautiful, perhaps, but more modest, than themselves.

It is a charming sight, and one ever to be remembered, to watch these enamored birds as they press their several suits. The stately tread, erect but comely carriage, waving plumes, quivering wings, and flashing eyes, bespeak the proud consciousness of superior worth and vigor. The beautiful bird glances defiantly about him, and challenges loudly for a rival. Again, he throws down the gauntlet, but none appears to take it up. He may now retire; his rights are proven.

But hid away in leafy bower, a gentler being watches his movements, admires his bearing, and fascinated by the courage she sees displayed, hopes that the next movement may bring him to her side, but dreading lest it may. At length their eyes meet, she trembles and attempts to fly, but cannot. Another look; he reads the secret of her heart, and with one loud, exultant cry, flies straight to her, curtsies low, and with wing half-spread above her, whispers softly in her ear the story of his love. She listens, but draws away. He pleads once more. She stands irresolute. Again he makes the attempt. This time with all the eloquence of his being. He conquers, and what a joy is his!

The trial over, the prize secured, the delighted lover, proud of his bride, showers upon her the rich fruitage of his love, guards her with jealous care, and seeks by every means in his power to add to her comfort and happiness. A few days thus spent, and the wedded couple, conscious of the sense of responsibility which attaches to them, cast about for a suitable spot for a home. They search through the tall, rank herbage, among piles of driftwood that lie scattered about, under fallen cacti, or in the shadow of jasmine bushes, and at length make up their minds. Where none of these are to be found, they do not hesitate to take to an open field. Little more is needed than to fix upon a spot, for the nest is far from an elaborate affair, being aught else than a collection of loose, dry grasses arranged without much care. In many instances, even these articles are dispensed with. The Plate represents the ordinary style of nest, containing a set of thirteen eggs drawn to the natural size. On the left of the picture may be seen the male, which differs from the female in his more brilliant and vivid colors, both being placed in the background.

Having finished her simple domicile, or rather having chosen a spot, for laying—for in the generality of cases no nest whatever is made—the female deposits day after day the eggs which are to constitute her complement. These are said to be from twelve to sixteen in number. When not pressed to lay, she rambles about with her lord, in close company, until compelled to take the nest. She now abandons all recreation, becomes sober and maternal, and sets about her duty in earnest. But she is not forgotten because she cannot enter into his idle amusements. Mounted upon some bush or log which projects above the nest, he stands watch, or solaces her weary moments with his best music. This ditty, though far from being harmonious, is presumably satisfactory to the one concerned. The time spent in incubation lasts for two weeks or more, until feeble cries are heard from the nest. The mother-bird now dries and cuddles the queer little beings, and the happy parents soon lead them off in quest of food. When the young are disturbed by human foes, the male-bird utters a sharp pit, resembling the common note of the Cardinal Grosbeak, which is doubtless the signal for flight.

The eggs of this Quail differ somewhat in size, and also in ornamentation. The ground-color is usually a creamy-white. The markings sometimes occur in the form of freckles, at other times in large scattered spots, and frequently in the form of confluent blotches. Their colors pass from a uniform shading of olivaceous-drab, through a rusty-drab, into a chestnut-brown. All the specimens that we have seen are sharply defined at one extremity and rounded at the other. In a set of fourteen eggs before us, the largest measures 1.32 by 1.00 inches; the smallest 1.13 in length and .97 in breadth. The average size is 1.23 by .98 inches. From the number of eggs sometimes found in a nest, it becomes a question whether birds, severely pressed, may not sometimes lay in nests not their own. We have no positive information that this does happen, but observation renders it highly probable that such is the case with the Virginia Quail, and, also, with some other birds. But however this may be, it is tolerably certain that broods of young sometimes coalesce after hatching. It has even been inferred that several females belong to one male, and with their varying broods run together.

Original Size