Out near the Western edge of the Tejas hill country, just before dawn, there&';s a sweet and familiar sound rising with the morning breeze. First one bird sings, then another, and soon the whole covey joins in to sing the sun right on up into the sky. Carefully camouflaged to blend in with the prickly pear, cedar scrub, and live oaks, these birds are nearly impossible to spot in the hilly draws of the open country. Suddenly, a flutter of wings erupts from the brush, and just for a brief moment the darting birds are visible in the air. Just as quickly as they appeared, the covey dives back into the underbrush. Their presence, only made known by a song.