Tin quail, made by an incarcerated person somewhere in, I think, Southern New Mexico - there's a whole little metallic flock of them strutting down the window ledge. This one appears to be admiring his shadow in the setting sun. The actual quails are starting to gather together in their large winter flocks. All the adorable little balls of fluff - the ones that didn't get snatched up by hawks or owls as feathery snacks - are now full-quail-sized, and take off with a wild whirring of wings as we approach on our walks.
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