Vegetarian Thanksgiving

"Can you see," I asked Mari, "whether there is seed in the bird feeder?"

I was leaning over the sink, parting the mint leaves growing in a pot on the sill. My eyesight is no longer as keen as a hawk's, nor a mole, for that matter.

As I often do, I filled the feeder, and just for good measure, threw a scoopful on the ground, beneath, for a starter. Then I watched the Gambel's quail, especially, come scooting back from nearby bush-retreats.

Normally, the ground-feeding quail just camp out beneath the feeder, waiting for the picky little buggers on the feeder to kick away what they do not prefer. A starter scoopful is like Vegetarian Thanksgiving, if you can appreciate that sort of thing.

"Careful!", I called out. "There is a Cooper Hawk in the neighborhood, who is not a vegetarian!"

They knew.

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