We had just turned the corner around a nice oak woodlot outside my hometown in northern Indiana, home on a visit for Christmas, when I saw a familiar sight; the prints of a covey of northern bobwhites in the snow. My heart nearly skipped a beat when, as soon as we stopped to investigate the prints, the covey which had temporarily retreated to some nearby shrubby cover, suddenly flushed. Our presence had finally become too much for the birds to bear in their shrubby refuge...
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