Identifier: westernfield61905olym (find matches)
Title: Western field
Year: 1902 (1900s)
Authors: Olympic Club (San Francisco, Calif.) California Game and Fish Protective Associations
Subjects: Olympic Club (San Francisco, Calif.) California Game and Fish Protectice Associations Sports
Publisher: San Francisco
Contributing Library: San Francisco Public Library
Digitizing Sponsor: San Francisco Public Library

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ers have benefited bythe changes which have taken place. Thesentiment of this is, of course, very true,but to see the neighborhood of his homebereft of much of its former charm is asad spectacle to one who has enjoyed suchkeen sport within its precincts. From the window on my left a patch ofwoodland marks the last vestige of truecover for miles around. Some of the greatoaks have fallen prey to the land ownersrapacity and much of the undercover hasbeen destroyed, but robbed as it is of manyof its charms, there still lingers about thespot a gentle influence which recalls pleasantmemories of the past. Here in days of yorethe twang of the slingshot and the crackof the parlor rifle was heard among theglades and often, too, the voice of the muzzle-loader reverberated through the leafy aisleswhile lusty quails crashed through thethickets. Down in a corner of this well-rememberedground, in a mass of blackberry vines andpoison oak, there was until last winter our THE PACIFIC COAST MAGAZINE 123
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SYLVAN RETREATS AMONG THE (ilANT OAKS. last local representative of the valley quails.I had often seen the bird when following apath which led past this bit of cover. Itmay have been wounded in a bygone seasonand incapacitated from seeking others ofits kind, or it is barely possible that, thelast of its brood, old associations causedit to cling to this insecure hiding place. Atany rate it had escaped the onslaughts ofthe small boy and other aesigning crea-tures. My dogs had found it many times,and as I neared the spot would cast aboutfor the delightful scent and often as notwould point or flush it, when it would boltinto an impenetrable hedge of cypresseswhich must often have proved its salvation.The sight of this bright little fellow with hisimmaculate plumage and jaunty topknotalways gladdened my heart and 1 was deter-mined, if such a thing were possible, to pre-vent the elimination of the last trace of up-land sport about my home. One morning in early November the doorbell rang; an

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