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the quail walked through my wooden gate yesterday morning, just as i turned, expecting. he, colorful and strutting, but always nervous--always watching. she, attentive and hungry, following his call, a magnet for the little ones that came next. two miniature quail, not as big as my thumb, skated along behind, zipping from starting point to destination. he skipped one brick at a time--hop, hop, hop--up scott's monument around the lilac bush, the one planted for the baby buried beneath it, another couple's loss many years ago. he watched and called, and the mother made a trail through the grass. i could not see the little ones, only the miniscule parting and trembling of plants as they ice-skated through. until they passed, mother first, and then--pop--the first baby and then--pop--the second out into the dirt wilderness of my empty garden. he focused his eyes, geared up his little body, and then half-flew and half-jumped like a cat up onto my fence, the one overlooking what would have been a garden, but now--due to illness--was only a length of churned up soil. i cried out with delight at his jump and his babies' tiny speed, but carefully--into my hand. these quail are nervous creatures, and i dared not even move but my eyes, for fear of frightening off my backyard guests. my head eventually tired of straining to see them without moving. so i slipped cautiously back inside. i wanted them to feel safe there. i wanted the little ones to live and grow there. and each day i would leave this little house and stealthily crawl back out onto the porch, as their guest and audience. this morning i did just that, and found him perched once again on the top of scott's old red brick monument. the one he built in a moment of passion and energy, soon after i told him of the grave site beneath it. the lilac bush was hardly recognizable when we moved in. and its memories had become forlorn, forgotten, and overgrown. no longer. the lilac bush and the quail, ck [2007-06-20]
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