Calling Bob White

I stumbled into the barn early one morning to discover a visitor at Marigold’s goat pen. I small brown bird with a white ring around its neck scurried away with a peculiar clicking sound. Thanks to our handy-dandy copy of The Burgess Bird Book for Children, we discovered it was a Bob White quail. Hmmm. I’ve never seen a quail in these parts before.

Jump ahead three weeks. Bob, as we’ve taken to calling him, now wanders through the yard, barnyard, pasture and woods, apparently calling for his long lost love. My better half impersonated her yesterday. The poor little quail was so excited he flew to the top rail of the swingset to get a better look. There was no sexy quail sweetie in view, much to his dismay. One morning he called her from the bed of the truck. This morning he was perched on a ladder.

I feel sorry for Bob. It must be extremely lonely, being the only quail within hearing distance. You’d think he’d pack his bags and head for greener pastures. Perhaps he’s still pining for my husband’s sultry quail voice!

Suggestions?
Not to get off topic, but in a bit of a jam. I’ve been making strawberry jam every June for years. I still can’t get all of the foam skimmed off. My jars always have a bit inside (as you can see in my header photo). Any advice? Is there a way to prevent the foam altogether? Send me your tips!

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