I counted eighteen quail through my window at 7:30 this morning. They were scurrying around the driveways and yards across the street, and then a few of them leaked over to the sidewalk in front of our house. They were rummaging in the gutters, on the edges and in the crevices. foraging for the remains of whatever the wind and rain showers left behind yesterday.
A creek is nearby, and we often see them along the road. They always appear so organized even in the midst of their constant movement. One minute they’re scattered, and the next they’re all clumped up together again. They instinctively know what we’ve been telling our kids since they were small.
There’ s safety in numbers. Unless you’re a lemming. Now that’s a perfect example from nature of another piece of advice that we have passed to our offspring. Choose your associates wisely.
As the middle of November approaches, my thoughts have turned to the holiday later this month. Plans are unfolding, and I am readying my speeches. I have dusted off my soap box. The impending arrival of our children always inspires me to think about where we all are and where we’re headed.
And with whom. My parents tried to steer me clear of companions they felt were less than a good influence on me. I had fairly good sense, but there were times when I strayed, and they were what many would consider overprotective. I turned out OK. (That’s what everyone says, isn’t it?)
Now I’m trying not to do the same thing to my kids, but oh well, those apples are still falling pretty close to the tree. Whatcha gonna do? I hear the familiar words leaking from my mouth, and feebly attempt to tuck them back into my cheeks like a squirrel saving up supplies for the winter.
They’ve turned out pretty well, otherwise I wouldn’t be looking forward to their visit. Forget about those darn lemmings. Guess our covey worked out after all.