
December 26th. 2011
This Quail is building the impossible, a nest out of spiky rusty wire - cozy it never will be- tucking in this unruly material while keeping the magic ball close.
The Quail can handle it. She (albeit it is a male quail) knows also about shedding, shedding your skin, meaning here to change, to adapt.The lizard taught her that. The Quail knows also about keeping ammunition at hand, just in case. She is well prepared, she has foraged for food, and that hangs in her crop-bag at the wall, juicy seeds well kept. While she is working, a dragon fly shows up, it carries a cobweb heavy with dust into the room where the bees are piled up on top and in between sheets of rubber; protective wall covering that has been discarded.The Beehives are gone now and moved south. After the hives have left, I go over with a soft brush and a dust pan, carefully I collect the left behind bees.
The box itself is an old bee box that got partially burned in a wildfire, years ago.






