Last night I retired to bed a little earlier than my better half.
Now I could just flip off the lights and get a few extra minutes of shut-eye, but I'm not the most pleasant person when roused unexpectantly from slumber, so setting myself up to fall asleep only to get woken in ten or twenty minutes is really just an exercise in futility.
When this happens I usually just turn on my Nook and read a little bit. Sometimes Tessa will want to jump up for some extra attention, but she usually waits until Carolyn changes for bed to decide she wants me to say goodnight.
Last night I was playing with my Nook, trying to figure out what book to read when I heard a strange sound from outside our bedroom window. A rather unusual bird was calling out from the tree in our backyard. Normally all we get is the brook babbling and some frog croaking. Ok, it isn't a brook, but a year-round irrigation canal. Sue me, I like the alliteration.
I found this odd bird call more comforting than disquieting. I couldn't quite figure out why until it dawned on me that I had heard a similar call before. A long time ago.
I'm pretty sure that the bird was a quail. Growing up in Iowa we had quail, but their numbers were diminishing rapidly as the farms grew in size, reducing their native habitat. We have quail here in the city, but they rarely venture into the neighborhood. I'm hoping that their numbers are such that they are migrating West into our subdivision.
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