Page:St. Nicholas (serial) (IA stnicholasserial321dodg).pdf/492

  

cold morning Farmer Glover stood in the rear of the barn, fork in hand, looking out over the fields. Snow-storm had followed snow-storm, until the stone walls were so covered that the farm seemed like a great field, with here and there a small grove to break the monotony. The cattle had been fed, and each animal was munching contentedly at its pile of hay in the sunshine, scattering chaff over the snowy barnyard.

Suddenly, from the light woods near the barn, came a startled “Bob-white!” Immediately there was an, answering call from the woods across the fields, and then another and another, and soon a flock of about twenty quail alighted cautiously on the ground, two or three rods from where Mr. Glover stood, and began picking up the seeds from the hay which the cattle had strewn over the snow. They scratched about like a flock of hens and apparently quite as much at home, and chippered away while they worked, after the fashion of tree-sparrows in the weeds down by the brook.

Farmer Glover was careful not to frighten his woodland guests, and the next morning he put out wheat for them and threw handfuls of chaff in the hay which the cattle had left. The flock returned again and again, until feeding the quails has become as much a part of the day’s routine as looking after the hens and turkeys. One cold morning, after they had