I grew up in the marshes of a large state, I’ve been living on a ranch since birth. My mama raised me well and I like to think that I’m among the more refined quail on the estate. I have skirted death many times and last week was no exception as I was able to escape the large man in the orange shirt. He wanted to shoot me, but I ran like I’ve never run before. Now, he’s been hunting us frequently, so much so that my cousin Francis made friends with some of those humans who travel in what I have learned to be called ambulances.
Well, last weekend Francis and I were having a bit of a walk around the grounds, looking for berries; a nice mist had lifted and we happened upon left-over items from a picnic. The man in the orange suit always leaves us some things, crumbs of fried chicken, a stray biscuit here or there…yummy stuff. I was inspecting the latest leftovers when BAM! I hear shooting. They had started their hunting and Francis and I began our usual survival run. As we’re running, Francis looks back and notices that another man, the man whose ranch we live on, has been hit. We stop in our tracks and observe the commotion. It’s all so ridiculous, this shooting….so here’s a little message from Francis and me:
“Pay attention to the small things, eat berries and poop! That is the secret to life.”