(Apologies to Jack London, "Call Of The Wild," 1903.)
The hills are alive ("Sound Of Music," 1965 film) with darned near every imaginable sound, from the tok-tok-tok and gobble of the turkeys to Harleys on the road or a trucker hitting the Jake Brake on the downhill run. The one persistent rooster every morning doesn't yell cock-a-doodle-doo. He sounds more like Johnny Weissmuller playing Tarzan (1930s-40s), swinging on a vine. The recently acquired mule or donkey next door has a bray that sounds very much like a woman screaming. There have been times I've turned off the sound on the TV just to be sure it wasn't. When the mares come into heat, the whole neighborhood knows it. With the many varieties of birds here, they are noisy, sure, but none are melodious songbirds like the meadowlarks we had in SoCal. Oh well.
Come to the country, they said. It'll be quiet, they said. I wouldn't trade it for the world.
Stay safe. Be well.
1 comment:
I would enjoy those sounds. It's quiet around here except for some man/woman made sounds, basically. And I've never even heard a meadowlark. We do have mourning doves, and I do like their "who-hoo-hoo-hoo," and I hear an occasional owl and sometimes a crow or two. The Seagulls squawk at the beach...so I guess I DO have some wildlife sounds.
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