Читать книгу Shaped by Snow. Defending the Future of Winter онлайн

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Once, while I was gardening in my backyard, I stopped to take a break from bending over the garden bed, sitting down and digging my hands into the soil between two rose bushes. I sat there, still and quiet, for a minute or so. Two California quails, one male, one female, came out from behind one of the rose bushes, pecking at the ground as they did so. They startled me, but I managed to keep still, holding my breath. The male noticed me first. He straightened abruptly, gray-blue chest puffing out, the dangling, black hook on his head shaking. The female straightened next, her light brown plumage soft and feminine next to her mate’s bolder stripes of white. They both glared at me sideways, their heads cocked at stiff angles. I imagined I could sense alarm and hesitation in their stare. But I thought I caught a sliver of something else in their eyes, just out of reach, a type of unattainable knowledge. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind when they both flew off the ground, their short, fat wings beating so violently in the small space that I recoiled, my shirt snagging on the rose bush behind me. I was left in the stillness and silence after their departure, my heart beating viciously in my chest.