Cute, yet stylish

Some birds are magnificent and inspire awe. Eagles, hawks, and owls are good examples. A number of birds are gorgeous in their feather coloration. Wood ducks, mountain bluebirds, and Western tanagers are good examples. Some birds are downright silly in appearance. The American white pelican is a good example.

A few birds are unbelievable in the things that they can do. Sandpipers, hummingbirds, and American dippers are good examples. Other birds are pests in the same way that weeds are. The European starling, the house sparrow and the wild turkey are all introduced species in our area that are good examples.

There is one species, however, that is downright cute. It is so cute that even nonbirders stop and smile whenever they see a group of these little flying tennis balls scurry across a neighborhood street or strut through a city park. Characterized as “elegant little chickens” in one field guide, the California quail is hard to beat for cuteness.

Variously described as chunky, squat, rounded and, frequently, chickenlike, California quail are nothing but stylish up close. With faces adorned in bold black and outlined in striking white, and with their trademark comma-shaped topknots, the males are impressive. Both sexes, again up-close, stand out in grays and browns, accented by unique scaled patterns.

But from a distance, on the ground or in the air, these birds are too round to be birds. On the ground, with head tucked in an effort at being inconspicuous, they are actual feather balls. When walking, or, more likely, running, they resemble awkward little toys, heads nodding with each step. On the wing, in a short burst of incredible energy, and with stubby little wings whirring, they resemble a home run-bound baseball.

But I think that cute summarizes them best. They are cute when perched alone in a tree, giving their unusual calls. They are cute when they become a strolling family once the young are hatched. And they are cute when, as a winter flock, or covey, they are visiting the spillage under a backyard feeder.

In our area, these cute California quail are the only “wild” example of the family of gallinaceous birds known to ornithologists as New World quail. The other family of gallinaceous birds includes pheasants, partridge, grouse, ptarmigan, and turkeys – oh yes, and chickens. None of these, to my taste at least, are cute.

There are five other species of New World quail in the United States, and several of these may be seen or heard in Kootenai County as barnyard or escaped birds. Out around Fernan Lake there has been a small group of the only quail found in the Eastern United States, the Northern bobwhite. I love its trademark call – bob-WHITE, but cute it is not.

On the southern edge of the Rathdrum Prairie I have seen several Gambel’s quail in a farmyard flock of California quail. Gambel’s are closely related to California quail, and are also somewhat cute, but to me are simply washed-out copies of the cuter Californias.

To many, the California quail loses its cuteness once it flies. As a popular game species – 70,000 are shot each year in Oregon alone – they are a challenging target.

One thing not so cute is its name. Why, in North Idaho, do we have a bird named for California? We also have the California gull, but it doesn’t actually live and breed here. It more or less just passes through, or stops off for awhile in the winter. In an area where most immigrants from that quasi-member of the Western United States try to hide their origin, why must this quail flaunt its roots?

Well, as with all who shoulder the title Californian, the California quail is also not native to our area. In fact, all populations outside of California, other than those in a small area of southwest Oregon, are introduced. Of course this often happens with game species, some to the good, as in the case of the ring-necked pheasant, the gray partridge, and the chukar, and some to environmental detriment, as is the case with the wild turkey.

That’s why I’ve said before in this column that bird names have so often been poorly thought out. Couldn’t it be “wild quail” and “California turkey?” That sounds more appropriate. “European” starling is pretty descriptive. “Wild” turkey is downright deceptive. And “California” quail is definitely pejorative.

And then, one last gripe about the naming of this quail. The quail species of the Eastern United States was not named “Eastern quail” or “West Virginia quail.” It was named “bobwhite” because that’s what it calls itself – similar to the situation of the chickadee and the saw-whet owl.

What does the California quail say? Certainly not California – not even their governor can say that. As clear as can be, the male calls out Chicago. Actually, phonetically it’s chi-CAH-go. OK, maybe “Chicago quail” isn’t much better. But see my point? This poor quail should have been better named.

Now, the family name of the quail is, at least, very appropriate. Have you heard it said that birds do not have teeth? It’s apparently not true. There is a saying that something is “as scarce as hen’s teeth.” Well, our “elegant little chickens,” hens and cocks alike, are of the family Odontophoridae. Odonto- means teeth, and -phore means bearing. Teeth-bearing describes the lower bill of quail.

These “teeth” are actually serrations along the edge of the bill, but they are found in no other gallinaceous birds. Quail males are also unique in lacking the spur that other galliformes use in fighting, and quail are much better fliers.

California quail are very social and are also quite the talkers. Individual pairs go off to nest in the spring, but family groups are out running around almost as soon as the young hatch. In the fall, family groups come together to form small coveys, and small coveys converge into large coveys as winter takes over.

In whatever type of group they find themselves, quail are constantly talking about it. Besides the loud and distinctive chi-CAH-go call that I’m beginning to hear in my neighborhood, quail have an extensive vocabulary for keeping in constant touch. I frequently hear the calm, reassuring ut, ut, ut call out my office window from a foraging covey that spends a part of each day below my feeders.

The quail alarm call is given as an excited pit-pit. That’s a call I hear almost any early morning I go out to get the paper. If I’m incautious and end up scattering the flock, immediately I hear frantic cu-ca-cow calls coming from all over. That’s the assembly call of the disturbed covey. And all of this is watched over by a sentinel male who sits high up in my pine, directing traffic with his authoritative calls.

That has been the scene all winter. Quail do not migrate, so these same birds will soon be preparing for a busy breeding season in this same neighborhood. Things will get real quiet while nesting is going on, but quail parents are busy. They often produce two sets of young each season, and each set may contain a dozen or more chicks – sometimes even two dozen.

No doubt you have seen one of these extensive trains of little birds scampering across a road. They move so fast that it appears they have no legs at all, but float along on a cushion of air. These chicks may be only hours old, and will be flying within 10 days of hatching.

With such a proliferative ability, and with young that are so well suited to taking care of themselves, it seems as though we ought to be overrun by quail. But alas for the quail, for they are not only cute, they are also highly nutritious, and tasty besides. And every predator out there agrees. Thus quail suffer an extremely high mortality rate.

Actually, it’s a wonder that any young survive at all. Of those that do, only about a quarter of each year’s adults will survive to see the next year. In fact, the average life span for a quail is less than one year. Those aren’t good odds. So, to survive as a species, quail produce lots and lots of young, in the hope that even a couple will survive to reproduce next year. Such is life at the lower end of the food chain.

At that lower end, quail eat almost entirely plant material. The young in particular will seek out ants and other invertebrates during the time that they need extra protein for growth, but mostly it’s leafy greens in the summer and weed seeds in the fall and winter. These they find by scratching through the ground litter with specially designed feet that even chickens would envy, except that they are so small.

So, all things considered, I think that quail are cool. Certainly they are not magnificent or gorgeous. They are not particularly unique as far as birds in general go, but they are also not pests. Their origins and past associations are suspect – they are, after all, the state bird of California. For an introduced species, however, they’re not bad. And it’s tough to be too hard on anything that cute!