Quail are not strictly granivorous. In autumn and winter they subsist chiefly on grain, berries and weed seeds. But in the spring and summer their food is almost exclusively composed of worms and insects. While Henry William Herbert extols the benefits the agriculturist derives from the consumption of weed seeds by these birds, he does not seem to have been aware the quail is the greatest worm and insect enemy of all the birds of North America, and are of more valuable service to crops and trees than all other birds combined. A few coveys carefully preserved would protect the farmer against the ravages of many destructive insects, which are more to be feared than the “rag-weed, the dock, or the brier.” The writer examined one accidentally killed, several years ago, in the month of June, and its crop contained seventy-five “_potatoe-bugs_,” besides numerous smaller insects. And, if for no other reason, the farmer should protect the bird as his best and most reliable exterminator of worms and insects, which, if undisturbed, accumulate to the great detriment of growing grain and grass, and to orchards and gardens. The quail regards man as his friend, though a stranger to his sympathy and protection. If not for ill-treatment and general manifestation to exterminate his species by those whose friendship he courts, he would soon become quite as domestic as the barnyard poultry. In fact, he frequently presses his claims perseveringly in this line by establishing partnership and social relations with domestic fowls. It is not uncommon to find a hen and quail occupying the same nest, until the complement of eggs are deposited by each, at the end of which time the quail usually submits the incubation to her partner. Quail are pursued by man, beast, bird, and reptile; but with a fair opportunity and timely warning they manifest a wonderful faculty for evading their foes; and, excepting the “pot-hunter,” they are provided with ample means for self-preservation. He who steals upon a covey while enjoying the sunshine by some stump, log, or fence-corner, seated in a space less than the circumference of a half-bushel measure, and betrays a confidence by firing upon them in this unsuspecting attitude, filling his bag with the dead, and marching off with the brand of “sneak-thief” upon his brow, is a “pot-hunter.” He, too, who, with a show of indifference, rides about, pretending to be overseeing his own affairs, whistling around until the poor unsuspecting birds, in order to get out of his way, unconsciously walk into a net prepared for them, and as a reward for this confiding friendship triumphantly mashes their heads, is a pot-hunter. Against such the bird has no protection.