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yelp of wild turkeys. I did interrupt my listening for lunch, but still unsatisfied, and apprehensive that, if I left off my listening I might spoil the whole Rand Corporation scheme.
I returned to listening in the afternoon resting in a lawn chair. I noted the changing sound of the wind as it first came over the mountain, moving the high pines and oaks and tulip trees that marked the ridge, and then worked down to gentler leaves of hickory and ash and to the almost soundless movement of the birch leaves and of the weeping willows. When no wind blew, I could hear the maple leaves ticking onto the ground, counting off the end of summer.
During my afternoon walk, I continued to listen, to the sound of squirrels and chipmonks among the leaves and of rabbits,to the grunting of John Glasker’s pig loose in the woods, unless it was the resident bear I heard, noted the changing sound of Beaver Dam Creek as more water fed into it as it ran on down to the old mill site. I noted also, in Thoreau fashion, the sound of the jets overhead, and of trucks on distant route 552, as well as a muffled rumble of thunder beyond the mountains.
Late afternoon brought on the bobwhite and the mocking birds, and at dusk the sad singing of coon hounds waiting for night. Then, as darkness settled in, the bass notes of the bull-frogs and the shrill scrapings of the cicadas, the hooting of the owls, again the lonely bellowing of cattle and the Jackass once more. - I had listened all day, and had come to none of clear insights and understandings Rand Corporation had all but promised.
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