{This is a 100 word response to a photo prompt challenge for
Friday Fictioneers from Rochelle Wisoff Field’s website. Thanks for the idea!}
Mary awoke and tied her kerchief firmly. No stray hairs.
Next, her apron. Strawberries on red-checkered cloth. Rosy cheeks and a watering can.
Most days it cheered her. But canning day was all business.
Canning turned trash to treasure. Waste was preserved.
Just two jars of peaches remained from last year’s fruit explosion.
Even the trees had to pull their own weight, around here.
Quee, the family quail, hunted for grubs and grasshoppers. He pecked affectionately at the window.
Mary shook her head at the empty larder.
“Your turn to pitch in, Quee,” she clucked, opening a book to “Q.”
What a fun and descriptive story. Didn’t see the end coming, though. Poor Quee.
So glad you liked it. Yes. It looks like a sorry end for Quee.
Mmmmm a tasty adventure this week. All business is right. That quail better watchout
Yes indeed, solo!
So loving, so affection, so.. what? Poor Quee… Ya can’t name the beasties you are planning to can!
Fun story.
My mistake, Dale!
Poor Quee! Run for the hills, lovely bird … Great story.
You could always get Quee a girlfriend and then you could have cans of quai eggs!
Click to read my FriFic tale
I believe Quee would find that a more acceptable proposition.
Oh, poor Quee. Seems like a lot of work to go to for such a small amount of meat.
True.
Oh no, she not going to can Quee is she? 🙂
I’m afraid that might be happening, yes. Unless some thing intercedes…
I like the twist that puts poor Quee into the can. – You conceal your intentions very nicely by personifying him and telling us he’s a pet then – whammo! Out comes the cookbook…
Only rarely do we think of weaponizing cookbooks.:)
Oh no, not Quee the Quail (who is indeed a he as far as I can tell). I love the descriptions, starting out with no stray hair, the apron, the canning… lovely writing. Just not for Quee… Now, if it were a she, maybe a few eggs instead? 😉
As I think someone noted, somewhere in this week’s comments, writers can be so cruel to their characters! And thank you for verifying his gender. One can get in so much trouble these days for mistaking such things.
Also, according to what I googled about quail canning, about which I otherwise know precious little, it would take several quail to fill a jar like those in the picture. So, if you a trying to fend off starvation, you might be better off gathering eggs!
You made me wonder if the quail had been invited as lunch would it have run a mile. A gentle and humorous read.
That would have been a good ending line: inviting Quee to lunch (as lunch). Thanks for the comment, and yes, I think he would have found his legs!
It was all going very well, this idyllic setting. But now it’s changed and not for the better, so far as the quail is concerned.
Yes, I’m afraid it isnt looking good.
Oh no! Poor Quee. Canned quail anyone?
I think I would prefer peaches.
I’m afraid there may not be enough to share. Quail, apparently, provide very little meat.
Really great piece.
Thank you Lisa!
What a sweet story!
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
Thank you Susan!
Like minds…
I see what you mean StuHN! Loved your poem, especially “squawks and cries of their demise…dead dull eyes.” Great stuff!
I do love to fill the basement with jam… sounds wonderful to have a quail as company.
I fear he may not enjoy the process as much. Assuming it’s a he…I wasn’t actually aware there was such as a thing as canned quail, until I googled it.
Dear Andrea,
I love this. I could almost smell the preserves and feel the steam rising from the water bath. Well done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
So glad you like it. It sounds like you’re saying that my story smelled good?:)
My wife would love a fruit tree or two close enough to harvest.
Yes, me too. Peaches! We do go pick oranges in December, sometimes.
A vivid picture of their life painted. Well done.
Thank you Iain!