Although the quail out front cheerfully forged ahead and scoured the ground for seed. I tossed fresh bird food out front, which was met with a chorus of excited little 'Urk! Urk! Urk!' noises from the unseen quail in the hedges nearby.
And the snow made pretty patterns on one of the patio tables.
By this morning, the quail trails across the front lawn were evident.
You could even see their peculiar 'run run run *hop* run run run *hop* run run run' mode of travel in deeper snow, like little fat snowplows. Having short legs is Hell.
And the icicles on the chain link fence sparkled prettily.
Meanwhile back indoors, Pidge spent his time wisely, wearing a chunk of newspaper as a hat and cooing into it. Because...well, that's what pigeons do and it makes him happy.
He went right back to it. We should all be as uncomplicated to be happy with something this simple.