19 November 2011

 

Sunday I stood at the window and watched 75-100 quail as they foraged in the driveway.  They were looking for weed seeds.  They work in tight groups.  They scratch, scratch, scratch, then peck, peck, peck while very nearly touching several companions.  There are no squabbles, no arguments over territory, no posturing or attempts by one to position himself over the others, and no contentions.  The quail work together as a unit in complete unity.

There is safety in their system.  There are eyes watching every angle and every approach that an enemy might use for an attack upon the group.  If one head jerks upward to the alert position, every other head in the group does likewise.  A moment later each returns to the task at hand.  If the perceived danger is real the entire covey lifts into the air with a great flurry of wings and sails off in a low flight to the nearest safe cover.  Immediately upon landing they begin talking and calling to one another with some calling, “Where are you?” and the others answering, “We’re over here.  Hurry.”

On fast little feet the disoriented stragglers hurry to their companions, and the group quickly reorganizes and resumes its business.

During rest times and at night the covey nestles closely together under a bush or in a thick evergreen.  They form a tight knot, keeping one another warm, and are always vigilant with eyes facing every direction.

 

The quail have a very effective system.  They function as a ward ought to function.  They’re unified, vigilant, concerned about the individual, and each does his or her part to contribute to the welfare of the whole.  The office of bishop is rotated from one to another as first one cock and then another, hops up on a fence post to keep watch while the ward is working below.

We would do well to imitate quail society.

Our stake president stood in front of the ward Sunday and said, “I’d like to speak about footprints.”  It was an attention-getting opening statement.  He gave a very effective talk on what at the surface would seem to be an offbeat subject.  As he announced his topic I thought to myself that if it was me standing there instead of him, I’d say, “I’d like to speak about quail.”

I’d tell my observations, including how a group of starlings—non-members—were welcome in the covey as it worked.  Starlings are very watchful birds, too, and were obviously using the quail as extra eyes and protection as they likewise foraged for seeds.  They were competing for the same food, but the quail didn’t mind, and allowed the starlings to freely work among them.  The starlings almost fit right in, being nearly the same color, and just a little smaller than the quail.  Neither the quail nor the starlings pecked one another or appeared in any way to resent the presence of the others.

When magpies arrived, it was a different story.  A single magpie swooped in to my bird-seed block and took over.  The quail that had been grouped around it gave way and regrouped three feet away, allowing the bully to have the block to himself.  They didn’t fight him for it.  They just meekly gave him the ground he wanted and patiently waited for him to finish.  A single tap on the window from me sent him flying away, and the quail returned to the block.

If I were speaking I’d combine the foregoing observations with two previous sets of observations about quail that I’ll now go find and include here.

One article is in this book, Random Writings, page 22.  It’s called “The Liar,” and is dated 5 February 2006.  The other is in Selected Sermons, page 107, and is reproduced below.  It was written in the summer of 2010