him, I replaced the last youngster and turned around to find Rhody a couple of feet behind me where I could have stepped on him. He did not seem to be worried about anything and had already appropriated the dead mouse I had brought with me. He went up to the nest in leisurely fashion, but did not take the mouse with him. I offered it to him there, he took it, but dropped it upon the youngsters. I picked it up and handed it to him again. He held it a while, but again dropped it as before. (Training the chicks to pick up their own food?). He seemed to take it only out of politeness and let it slide out of his bill the last time, like a man falling asleep with a cigar in his mouth. Once more I salvaged the creature, and this time Rhody, either despairing of terminating the cycle, or else as a self-sacrificing gesture of courtesy, swallowed it himself. After this he did not want meat for himself or the babies, but he did condescend to take a worm or two so as not to hurt my feelings. I tired a couple of movie shots at the young birds in the nest and at Rhody settling upon them, at 2 ft. distance, but the light conditions were so trying as to make favorable results doubt- ful and I had no reflector. The subjects were in deep shade with scattered spots of high illumination, camera pointed sunward. Rhody's behavior in the nest indicated an untroubled mind; the only time he showed any excitement was when a large blue-bottle fly buzzed around his head. He made fierce efforts to catch him, dodging about the nest and even stepping out of it on to my hand to get a better shot at him, stopping one stab just a little short of my nose; the fly, however, escaped. I am inclined to think that all this was more or less a manifestation of his sporting instinct; because he was not hungry. June 11th. The young quail chicks, with forced feeding, are all alive and active this morning.