A hot summer afternoon

It is the time of the year we hear familiar sounds from a family a quails that visit our garden. Mom, Dad and about a dozen chicks, a few days old, barely larger than a house sparrow. They are sure to find meals and hydration here. Chicks have interesting corners to explore and new foods to try while mom and dad forage in the garden. 

At times dad stands tall on a pillar, a good vantage point to watch out for any predators, keeps an eye on his young chicks on the ground. Mom introduces the chicks to different areas of the garden, up and down the bushes and boulders. Once in a while a distracted little one is left behind and frantically calls and searches for its siblings. 

I lose sight of the chicks but I see dad, still calmly keeping a watch. Chicks must be safe and close by, I think to myself. Suddenly they all appear from nowhere, chirping loudly, they gather around the water dish on the ground. Clumsy and impatient, some fall in the shallow dish and discover the fun of splashing in water.

Then, the slightest sound and they disappear as though a switch flipped the garden scene. No chick to be seen, no chirp to be heard. Dad, on the pillar, appears more alert, ready to take off. Few moments later, he relaxes again. Something tells him it was a false alarm and all is fine. Then I see a chick emerge from under the Dalea bush, hesitant at first but then fills with playfulness and curiosity as though this moment has been there forever. They all are now out in the open, running around. Mom carries on foraging the seeds that dropped down from the bird feeder. 

When the sun shines hot they rest under the thick shade of the elderberry tree where the soil is always cool and moist. Dad also flies down from his watch tower to join his family under the cool shade. 

It is one of those hot summer afternoons in my garden when I am in no rush for cool weather to arrive.