Somewhere in the scrub of Napier's Sturm's Gully nests a covey of Californian quail.
As it's my favourite walking spot, I spy them almost every day, the stocky hen and cock birds walking almost as fast as they fly.
If you haven't seen the male's conspicuous top-knot, you've certainly heard his boisterous 'Chi-ca-go' call.
I rate them as the most attractive of our introduced gamebirds - and that's from somewhere who's for the most part indifferent to the dour swathes of introduced bird species.
The distressing truth dawned on an evening walk a few weeks back. Just minutes after passing a female with what was obviously nesting material in her beak, I hadn't walked more than 30 paces before counting five cats.