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?4 THE CONDOR VoL. V Our first invasion into his territory was in the Chisos mountains, at the ex- treme reach of the"Big Bend" of the Rio Grande. After a long hot ride, we finally ascended the foot-slopes at abdut sunset, and worked into a dwindling trail which finally became lost in an old arroyo, coming down from a great gulch in the mountains. We camped at last by a 'well' that one of our nnmber discovered in the brush about fifty yards from the trail, and tired and hungry almost to oblivion, we ate our bacon, beans, and biscuit, and rolled up in our blankets in the beautiful glow of the full moon. I awoke in the cool, just before sun-up, and was lazily dressing, half out of my sleeping-bag, when my sleepy eye caught a slight motion in the grass about twenty feet away. I looked and became aware that I was staring at my first Mearns quail. Even as I took in the fact, he apparently framed up his ideas as to his vision, and telling himself in a quiet little quail-voice that it were perhaps as well to move on and look from a safer distance, he slimmed down his trim little form and ran a few steps. Meanwhile I was clumsily trying to get my gun out from under my sleeping bag, where I had put it to keep it out of the dew. The quail, getting wiser every second, doubled his trot, and with head erect and body trim ran like a plover for a few yards through the short desert grass, and with a true quail f-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r burst into flight and dropped into the thick brush across the arroyo. The most noticeable thing about him as I watched him running was the curious use of his queer little crest. Instead of elevating it as the mountain quail does his, he raised his painted head on slim neck and spread his flowing crest laterally, till it looked like half a mushroom, giving him the most curious appearance imaginable. When he flew I marked him down carefully, hastily drew my boots half on, grabbed my gun and stumped after him with all speed. I got to his point within a short time, but thrash and kick around as I might, I never succeeded in making him flush a second time. Thus ended the first chance. Later, when we had reached the foot of the gulch and made camp under a noble old pinyon, we had opportunity to learn more about the quail, tho we never had such a good view as that first one. A curious, quavering, owl-like cry attracted our novelty-seeking ears. A pigmy owl perhaps? Tho .frequently heard in the scrubby oaks at the edge of the woods, or even in the woods, it proved a true will- o the-wisp, and invariably led us out into the basting-hot brush on the hillside, among the cacti and slide-rock. At first we approached it cautiously, or carefully tried to 'round it up' by going to either side of it. But it always eluded us, and we had only our guesses to tell what it was. We were beginning to guess right, however, and one lucid day I decided to waste no more time. So the next time the sad little cry sounded, off I went toward it as fast as possible, until I thought I was near the place. Then I stopped and listened. Again! Only waiting long enough to ascertain that the sound came from a particularly dense bunch of Dasy- lerion, cactus and other desert brush, I jumped in and made for the place, never heeding the noise I was making. On, to the point, and right on, whenfrrrrrrrrrr, out b?iled a cock Massena, andfrrrrrrrr, out went the hen after him at another angle. I was nearly ready, but not quite, and by the time I was 'on' him he had dropped, woodcock-like, after a flight of only a rod or two. So, also, had the hen. So there were no quail for me this time, as I was unable to flush them again. But I had "found a wy," and knew that some day I'd make it succeed. Later I had the pleasure of seeing a beautiful cock, shot by one of the others, and the next day the strange pinkish hen was brought in. With a wider knowledge of the bird's ways and the kind of cover he preferred, his curious markings seemed less of a contradiction. Many partridges have black or very dark ventral patches which