The flocks are smaller than they were before the Woolsey Fire, and considering the tremendous loss of habitat, it's not surprising. But the good news is that they're still there, screechy and squawking and always watching the action down on the ground.

The really hard part is just how many California quail perished when the canyons here burned. I miss them so much, slightly goofy with those rounded bodies and poufs of head feathers, the collection of calls they use to warn of danger. Sightings are rare these days, each one a small victory.