Hello Everyone, I was going through my "New" IDEALs Magazines that a little birdie sent me a while back. I came across the cuttiest picture of a mother Bob-white (Quail) and her babies in the snow. When I lived in New Jersey (Salem, Co.) every year like clockwork our resident mother Quail and her babies would run across our backyard. They did this a few times in the summer (Not the winter). I couldn't resist this poem/story. Hope everyone enjoys it. A QUAIL TALE When I went down the road To collect the early mail, I saw in front of the bushes A family of strolling quail. Father came first, The Protector, Trailing three little ones in a row, Followed by Watchful Mother With one more baby in tow. In single file they proceed, Each nodding and bobbing its head, And I could hear flutters of sweet talk Though I couldn't discern what they said. I quietly spoke, "Good Morning!" And my voice had a friendly edge, But they took my words as warning And disappeared under the hedge. Five long, silent minutes they waited, Hiding themselves from sight. I stood motionless by my mailbox, Hoping they wouldn't take flight. At last, with soft, sudden stirring, Father's top knot peeped out; And the trio again filled the footsteps Of their captain, their leader. their scout. >From her camouflage Mother sped forward Into the golden sunshine. But, oh, did she know, I wondered, That baby wasn't in line? They made not one backward glance As they quickly marched away, Thinking only of empty tummies And the simple routines of the day. Should I search for the smallest fellow And set him out in plain slight? Would he call to his mother and father, Or would he be speechless with fright? In an instant, in frantic flurry, The tiny quail made timid sounds; That same moment the Nervous Mother Stopped and turned around. This time she walked him before her, Making sure he heard her reproach, And soon they caught up with the father, Their captain, their leader, their coach! IDEALS Magazine MCMXCV By: Carol Hogan