A ravenous flock pursued us on the lawn.
We fled.
She was his age, last time we fed the ducks.
Today, the waterfowl waited patiently in the pond.
They’ve learned manners over the pandemic.
..
..
The bottom of the quail’s foot is always itching for the ground ; and he seems never so happy as when leaving the enemy far behind him. His little legs take him through the brush so fast that you cannot keep up with him. Every muscle in him is as tough as a watch-spring.
from “Winged Life” in The Desert by John C. Van Dyke
䷨䷼