© 2009 Lynsey

062 – Morning

Angels in the early morning may be seen the dews among.
Stooping, plucking, smiling, flying.
Do the buds to them belong?
— Emily Dickinson

The day couldn’t get off to a better start – I wake early to sunshine and the sound of quail calling to each other – «Chi-cago! Chi-cago!».

The dew sparkling on the grass. A runner rabbit sits, meditating in the coolness. Not a breath of wind, just an infinite blueness overhead. The promise of a beautiful day.

The quail are already up and running as I surface. They nestle together in the dusty soil – every now and again one of them scuffles around, fluffing up their feathers in the dust bath, before hunting for food, or the all important ‘stand on a post, stare down the sun, and then call out to the rest of the covey’.

Quail are gregarious – if there’s one there’s probably half a dozen more running around between the grapes and olives nearby. A vineyard is probably an ideal habitat for quail. Quail aren’t particularly given to flying, they’re much better at running even the mother birds will scoot along with a fluffy frenzy of babies following along behind – uber cute.

I love quail – I find their spirit and vibrancy very uplifting. A dozen or so would be very welcome in our garden.

Manifesto
09. Every day learn something new.
14. Every day the ordinary can be the extraordinary.
30. Every day use all your senses. Touch. Smell. Taste. Hear. See.

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