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June 19th  2011    Tim Candler

    Parrots, or something like them not far from here.  Or it could be a new Deer, or a Crow, or maybe someone has lost a Goat. 

    It's a dreadful noise because it contains a suggestion of imminent death unless demands are met, hearts opened and protection provided.  It's the sort of sound that makes a person feel  guilty of something.  Worse, it moves.  Sometimes to the North and sometimes more southerly so there is no chance to fix blame.

     That deceitful bird the Phoebe, however, has her children ready to fledge and if they get much bigger they will learn to fly by falling from their mossy nest. Nor do I feel in the least guilty when I hear them calling for more, as they do from the sunrise to the end of it. 

    But I do feel great sympathy for the Phoebe's neighbor, a Barn Swallow hard at work and sometimes he visits to check on her.

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