[See the previous blog entry for background.]
Splat finally died. And so did the one other hitherto-surviving runt amongst the baby quail. The remaining bevy consists of 13 chicks who have more than doubled in size over the last week and all look destined to reach maturity.
Natural selection, it would seem, has taken its course.
May you rest in peace, Splat. And I trust that you will be reborn as an overpaid City of London banker with a penchant for game shooting in the highland estates of Scotland. Selection, these days, is not always so natural!
