Fond memory of Cave Creek, AZ – a bevy of quail scurrying all around the front yard in the mornings on mysterious and urgent missions. Busy; very busy; very, very busy. The aim seemed to be to cover a lot of ground, fast.Early one morning, looking around that same big yard, slowly lifting their feet out of the overnight surprise snow, turning their heads, asking, — okay, what’s going on here; whose idea was this?
