Crows calling, generally chattering amongst themselves.
And sometimes you see a bush move.
Sometimes it's just the wind funneling through between a particular couple of bushes, trees.
Sometimes it's a bird.
And sometimes if it's a piece down close to the ground.
If you're lucky you flush a wild turkey and you insert the narration later
because by the time you knew what it was on the trail, it was gone.
Pollinating bees are in short supply in some places but not here on the thistles.
And there's the bee on the other side of the thistle.
Coming up over the hill, gathering pollen from the blooms.
We don't eat thistle, of course.
You can have them when you want.
You often hear before you see as it thrums its way through around the bushes and around
the possible nectar pots that it seeks.
I mean birds actually have a language in their wings so that when they vibrate the wings
they're saying things having to do with danger or location of flowers, tasty honey pots.
You keep a listen out and you watch them long enough.
You can figure out kind of what they're saying.
You can figure out kind of what they're saying and you can figure out kind of what they're
saying.
You can figure out kind of what they're saying.
You can figure out kind of what they're saying and you can figure out kind of what they're
saying.
