Tiny little baby quail. A covey of ten itty bitty babies.
The adult quail were in a tizzy. Somehow they had all gotten to the bottom of our slope, and those babies couldn't get back up. No matter how much chirping the adults did, those fuzzy balls of feathers weren't able to jump, hop, or fly up those cinder blocks to get up the slope.
The chicks ran back and forth, tripping over their toes and nose diving into the cement walkway.
I sneaked around outside to catch better photos. Those quail were frantic.
I knew we needed to help. The Professor found a box and we started rounding them up one by one and herding them in to the box. Ten little furballs. Some of them I had to pick up and cradle in my hand until I could move them to the box.
At the top of the slope the granddaddy quail was clucking, calling, and directing the operation, none too pleased at our intervention. He didn't know what we know. There has been a hungry gopher snake hanging around the place, too.
We released the babies at the top of the slope.
I hope they're safe and sound in their nest now.