Three stories about a quail family

Editor's note: This began as a story by Sam Bauman about quail in his enclosed patio. He has included what he now knows he should have done, and what happened as a result.

By Sam Bauman

Appeal Staff Writer

I've got some guests that I just don't know how to handle. They don't eat a lot and never touch the liquor cabinet and so far haven't made much of a mess. I kind of like having them around, but they gotta go.

My guests are a family of quail. That's right, Papa with his proud head-curl; Mama, a bit drab but efficient; and about 13 chicks that scurry around so fast I can't really count them.

Problem is, they have set up housekeeping in my patio, which is enclosed on all sides with 10-foot brick or house walls. While Papa and Mama could just flap wings and take off, the chicks are far from getting certified for solo. Right now, things are just fine. They have eaten all my flowers and did a little damage to the romaine.

There's a kind of fountain with a bowl of water for drinking, but I don't think the little quail could rise to the oasis.

There is a door by the side of the house which leads to the street and a big pine tree where quail have summered for years. But it's a narrow corridor to get to the door, and when I leave it open for them, they don't seem interested in that wide and dangerous world out there.

Friends have suggested that I try to bag the chicks and take them out, but I don't think Papa is going to put up with that. He preens himself on the top of a patio wall while keeping and eye on Mama and the offspring. Mama is not a bird with which I would like to tangle; she moves those chicks with military efficiency.

I guess I could trail some bird food along a path to the outside world, but what kind of bird seed do quail eat? And would they gobble it up and then return to the safety of the thick ground cover?

Yes, I could just let them hunker around until they can fly. But I suspect that a considerable mess of bird doo would result, and maybe my tomatoes would be assaulted, not to mention the eggplants.

How this all came about I have no idea. I saw no nest under construction, no hovering Mama, just as occasional visit by Papa. But they are there.

Can I call the dog catcher? Or the cops? Or maybe the SPCA? Or just learn to live with it. I could always take a long vacation, but that would be cowardice. But then maybe I'm cut out to be a coward.

That was the first story I wrote on the subject of a visiting quail family. It tried to be a light look at an odd circumstance. But it was the wrong story. What I should have written was the following one:

A family of quail showed upon my patio Monday - Papa, Mama and 13 tennis ball-size chicks. How they got in the completely enclosed patio is a mystery; the chicks were too young to fly, but they could scurry about like rolling BBs. Perhaps there's a hidden nest.

But what to do with the family? Feed them? Put out water? Make a nest for them? The intense heat sent the little ones trying to hide in the shadow of their stout mother. The papa didn't have much to do other than perch on the 10-foot-high wall of the patio and look important and brave.

So I started calling the authorities. First off was Carson City Animal Services, where Lindsey explained what to do.

"Call our BIrd Lady, Evelyn, at 246-0470. She helps people who have problems with sick birds."

I called Evelyn at the Dayton Valley Wildlife Rest Stop.

"What you should do is get a big box and chase the chicks into it. Or pick them up and put them in safely," she explained. "The parents will watch you."

Sounds easier said than done.

"Once you've got them in the box, take them outside and put them under some bushes, out of the sun. Pretty soon, their peeping will bring the parents to them, and then they're taken care of.

"If the chicks seems weak or feeble, give us a call, and we'll come and take care of them. We do this all the time for hurt or sick birds. We bring them back and then let them go in the wilderness."

Sounds good, so I got a box and on Wednesday morning went out to round up the chicks.

That was what I should have written first. Now, I had to write this:

Remember that quail family that seemed trapped in my patio?

Wednesday afternoon, I went out in the patio with a box to capture the little quail. It was blazing hot, and I couldn't spot the fast-moving chicks.

And then I spotted two small bodies on the patio paving blocks. They weren't moving.

Up on the roof, the papa and mama quail were looking down, shifting about a little. The mama seeming quiet, the papa looking less strong and confident.

The parents made their clicking sounds, seemingly in mournful tones, but that could be just my imagination.

The two chicks were obviously dead. Where the others were, I didn't know, probably hidden, dead, in the ground cover. The papa quail seemed to fidget, edging closer but then backing away. Mama didn't seem to move very much.

The loss of the brood of chicks probably won't matter much in this busy world, as quail are plentiful around Carson City these days.

But it would be hard to tell that to those two dead chicks, their spotted chests seemingly still alive.

All it would have taken was a phone call. Just a phone call to the Bird Lady. No big impact on the spinning world. But certainly an impact on Mama and Papa.

• Contact Sam Bauman at sbauman@nevadaappeal.com or 881-1236.