Bob White at Eden Farm!

I haven't seen Bob White quail here for about 20 years.  We are at the northern part of their range and they haven't fared well here or elsewhere over this same period.  No till, no edge farming, foxes, hawks, and other farming practices and predators have all but eliminated quail from this area.  But, yesterday I heard that sweet summer song, bob white!  I thought I was mistaken at first, but as I listened closely I heard it again.  I returned the call, roughly.  I can't whistle, I can hardly carry a note, but my whistle must have sounded like a general approximation because I got a return call!  Then we started carrying on a conversation.  Lord knows what we were saying, but one quail was moving closer and responding right away.  I hoped it was a hen, because this baby was acting excited to find what must have sounded like a 200 pound boy friend right in her back yard!

I stayed in place in the driveway and couldn't see a long distance, but it seemed like the quail was going to round the corner any minute.  Shy, coy, or suspicious of my off-key, baritone whistle, she wasn't venturing out of cover and I grew impatient, and just a little self-conscious.  It can be a little quiet here at the farm and, as much fun as I was having, I didn't want to spend too much time whistling at some unseen girl friend.

This morning, as I got the paper, I tried a few good morning whistles.  No return call.  My notes are a little rougher first thing in the morning and I hadn't had any coffee.  They probably moved out of range, or hadn't finished their morning routine yet, but, unbelievably, in a short while, as I was reading the paper and enjoying coffee at the kitchen table, I heard that lonely call.  I returned it without moving from my seat and she responded!  Through stone walls, thermopane, and Krista Tippett's "On Being", our affair resumed.  But, again, I grew bored.  A guy can live to whistle only so long.  A little later, I was out back again, this time practicing my golf swing (yes, its a little quiet here), and heard her call nearby.  I responded and then looked up to see the quail right in front of my garage, standing proud, so proud, in fact, I wondered it if was my girl friend, or an angry rooster.  I didn't want to start any trouble, but Beau and Belle in an absolute fit of fidelity spotted that gal or guy and took off in full chase. I was surprised the quail didn't just fly off but, instead just ran into the dense hay.  Then, I saw a second quail down the road where the first took cover, so it did appear the rooster was trying to dissuade me from flirting with one of his girls.  I called Beau and Belle back into the house to allow things to settle down.  I don't know if I'll every hear her call again, but it made for some wistful moments here at Eden Farm.  I may let the Pennsylvania Game Commission know about the covey.  I just hope they don't ask to record my Bob White whistle!