4:14 am. Squawk. Squawk. Squaaaaawk. Squawk. Squawk. Cheep! Squawk. Squawk. Cheep! Squawk. Squawk. Cheep! Squawk. Squawk. Cheep! Squawk. Squawk. Cheep! Squawk. Squawk. Cheep! Squawk. Squaaaawk. Cheep! Cheep!
A baby bird sitting outside my bedroom window (but in close proximity to my ears) was having a pre-dawn singing lesson. He did well. His father sat nearby and sang intricate melodies. The baby bird bleated back awkwardly until his first real note, a little peep in F#, popped out. Then he set up a steady rhythm of squawks and cheeps as he flew off to wake other innocent slumberers.
