Walking the crossroads the other day, crazy laugh of a pileated woodpecker from deep in the woods.
It is the season of woodpeckers. They are living the line from Mary Oliver's poem, Wild Geese, "over and over announcing your place in the family of things." They are trying to establish their territory, and looking for the loudest instruments possible to accomplish this. Sometimes they will bang away on a metal sign. That makes a lot of noise. One woodpecker I heard the other day seemed to be rapping on the side of an abandoned shack which seemed to act like one huge wooden bullhorn. It really amplified the sound
It is the season of woodpeckers. They are living the line from Mary Oliver's poem, Wild Geese, "over and over announcing your place in the family of things." They are trying to establish their territory, and looking for the loudest instruments possible to accomplish this. Sometimes they will bang away on a metal sign. That makes a lot of noise. One woodpecker I heard the other day seemed to be rapping on the side of an abandoned shack which seemed to act like one huge wooden bullhorn. It really amplified the sound
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