Late in April or early in May they construct their nests, always on the ground, usually under the protection of some cluster of bushes, in a depression. It is often on the slope of a small eminence. It is very simple, the materials loosely put together, and wholly of coarse stubble or straw. All that I have seen have been arched over at the top, and with a partially covered entrance; but I am told that it is as often open as covered. The eggs are spoken of in the books as from fifteen to twenty. I have never found less than twenty-four, and from that number to thirty-two. I think that each female lays but about eight, and that several females make use of the same nest,—never less than two, nor more than four. But this opinion is conjectural rather than ascertained. They have two broods in a season, the second in August, at which time the male is engaged in leading the first brood, of which he takes charge when they are hardly half grown. He is a courageous, watchful, and devoted guardian. Once as I was rapidly descending a path on the side of a hill, among a low growth of scrub-oak I came suddenly upon a covey of young Quail, feeding on blueberries, and directly in the path. They did not see me until I was close upon them, when the old bird, a fine old male, flew directly towards me and tumbled at my feet as if in a dying condition, giving at the same time a shrill whistle, expressive of intense alarm. I stooped and put my hand upon his extended wings, and could easily have caught him. The young birds, at the cry of the parent, flew in all directions; and their devoted father soon followed them, and began calling to them in a low cluck, like the cry of the Brown Thresher. The young at this time were hardly more than a week old, and seemed to fly perfectly well to a short distance. The female was nowhere to be seen, but may have been previously killed, or may have been already in her second incubation at that early stage. The young run as soon as they are hatched, and from the first aid their flight with their wings; when pursued, I have never known them to squat in the manner of the Ruffed Grouse, but rather to hide themselves in thick bushes or tufts of grass, running from these if discovered.
The male bird has a loud, clear, and very distinctive whistle, which in New England is interpreted as No more wet, or, if his utterance is more hurried and excited, as More wet; and there are those who still attach to these utterances a meteorological significance. In other parts of the country this cry is supposed to be Ah Bob-white, or Bob-white, and the birds are not unfrequently called Bob-Whites, a name suggested by Professor Baird as a good specific designation. Their note when calling their young brood is very different, and is a low twitter, suggestive of affection, caution, and gentle care. It is soft and subdued, and would readily escape notice.
They make a loud whirring sound when they take to flight, but they rarely fly to any distance, even when most alarmed, as their flight is somewhat laborious. They often escape by running on the ground, especially when they are not suddenly startled.
Mr. Audubon states that at the West this bird performs occasional migrations towards the southeast in October, in the manner of the Wild Turkey; but I cannot find that others have noticed this occurrence. In the Southern and Western States, where this species is very plentiful, they are taken in immense numbers in large nets, into which they are cautiously and slowly driven by a party of hunters.
This species, with proper pains, may be easily raised in confinement, induced to breed, and trained into a condition of partial domestication. Rev. Dr. Bachman, of Charleston, S. C., succeeded in obtaining, by hatching under a Bantam Hen, a brood of young Quails. Confining them with their foster-mother for a few days, they were soon taught to follow her like young chickens. They were fed at first on curds, but soon began to eat cracked Indian-corn and millet. They were permitted to stray at large in the garden, one wing of each having been shortened. They became very gentle, and were in the habit of following Dr. Bachman through his house, seating themselves on the table at which he was writing, occasionally, in play, pecking at his hands or running off with his pen. At night they nestled in a coop in the garden. Although these pets had no opportunity of hearing any other sounds than those of the poultry, the male birds commenced in the spring their not unmusical note of Bob-white, at first low, but increasing in loudness, until they were heard through the whole neighborhood. Their notes were precisely like those of the wild birds. As the spring advanced the males became very pugnacious, and continued contests took place among themselves, as well as with the Pigeons and the poultry that intruded on their premises. Their eggs were placed under a Hen and hatched out. The experiment went no further, but was quite sufficient to demonstrate the possibility of their domestication.
Wilson relates that in one instance a female of this species set upon and hatched out the eggs of the common Hen. For several weeks after, his informant occasionally surprised her in various parts of the plantation with her brood of chickens, on which occasion she exhibited every indication of distress and alarm, and practised her usual manœuvres for their preservation. She continued to lead them about until they were larger than herself, and their manners had all the shyness and timidity and alarm of young Quails.
Mr. Allen states (Am. Nat., July, 1872) that this species has been recently introduced into the Great Salt Lake Valley, and in 1871 was giving promise of multiplying rapidly and becoming thoroughly naturalized, young birds having been raised in the summer of 1871.
The eggs of this species are of a pure, brilliant white color, sharply pointed at one end, and obtusely rounded at the other. They average about 1.35 inches in length by one inch in breadth.