The quails are back this morning, twenty-three quails and a towhee. That effortless flow of quails across the drive, into the grass . . . A scattering of quails, a long skitter of quails . . . I’m always trying to find the right verb, the right collective noun. Bevy is too busy; Solemnity too grave—not taking into consideration the delightful sudden dash from one side to the other, the sometimes giddy syncopation of the otherwise stately procession.
A hawk sits watching, impassive. A bushy-tailed squirrel goes about its busy business in between.
The quails gladden my day.
image: California Quail (Callipepla californica), Gary Kramer, Fish and Wildlife Service
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