Life, 1904-03-03 · page 14 of 38
Life — March 3, 1904 — page 14: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a humorous essay by James Montgomery Flagg about observing quails in nature. The "satire" here targets not politics but the author himself—a self-proclaimed naturalist who works as a writer/journalist. The joke: Flagg describes himself as a dedicated scientist studying animal behavior, yet he's comically unprepared (typewriter strapped to his back, camera in hand). When observing a father quail disciplining a young quail, Flagg nearly abandons scientific objectivity to write up the scene on the spot, prioritizing a publishable "story" over accurate documentation. The cartoon illustrates the central tension: Flagg sprawled in the bushes with his typewriter, frantically documenting nature while the quails go about their business. The humor lies in exposing how journalists/naturalists compromise their work through deadline pressure and the need for colorful copy rather than honest observation. The "whopper" (exaggeration) is Flagg's own pretense to serious naturalism.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Wi q Animal Whog GF sy chee \" Jaines Mowtdomery Flagg The: Quail. daddy quail motioning frantically with his "Ma Naturalist—it’s my business, my lifes wings to a fat young quail, who was pont- work, [hasten to assure you of this. I ing and seemed to resent the older think it reads better here than at the —— jira’s authority, I held my breath closing chapter. I have nothing to do for ten or fifteen minutes,—oh, my, ) with people. re up people years ago. yes; that's part of our training ; we \/ | Animals interesting, Ilove them naturalists have to perfect ourse rd | some, perhaps, more than jy holding our breath—and watched | rs. The quail, for example, jis interesting pantomime. Mean-(- will always have a particular’ hile I had unstrapped amy tyy g niche in my esteem, Whatisso — \riter, and was pegging av attract as a stout little writing up the incident right on the ; quail, lying flat on his back, spot, I find it's the only safe way (“ : H Se, with his legs in the air,onhis todo, If you wait till you get home we iM nest of brown toast ? to record these thi ‘u're sure to “ Last Tuesday afternoon, jose some of the local color, and it while I wastramping through gunerally turns out a wishy-washy, the woods with my typewriter strapped pulpy article. Even the short time on my back—(no, not that kind!) and that would elapse between seeing a Bey pencil in one hand, my camera in cene of this kind and getting back the other, heard the whistleof a quail. ty your shack to write it up would be Most remarkable thing — a quail’s enough to render your account a bit whistle. Each separate family of quails have their own at and unsympathetic. I wondered peculiar whistle, Whena whet new family moves into the : neighborhood, the oldest all this birds of every family m excite: in some hollow log and in- ment on | vent—actnally compose— the old a whistle different fro . bird's all the rest, and the new bart indicated, and I, in my fami is visited before professional enthusiasm, they are thro unpack- Was almost putting down ing, and the notes of the what I (ought it meant, but, whistl handed over to luckily for the cause of them to memorize. It is truth, the old bird's argu- ® just one of their customs. The re: moply this— but [have digressed. As I was saying, I heard one of those whistles, and dropping to my knees be- hind a checkerberry tree, I peered throngh th “LIFE » ment finally prevailed, for the young quail gave a sniff of resigned disgust and disappeared through the thicket. I hastily picked up my traps and followed, and was thankful that I had curbed my impatience, for the climax to the scene was * A gray old gran'daddy quait motioning frantically.” and sa comicbooks.com