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sette. That mockingbird probably enjoyed the warm air rising from the red embers in the fireplace. Even when there was a bit of smoke rising, it stayed in place, singing.
Occasionally the more adventurous type of bird has come right down the chimney into the house. Julia likes to play a folk harp, .which involves sitting by the hearth on a small stool with the harp between her knees and her hands on the strings. Overhead the ceiling is rustic, with exposed wood beams and joists. As she played one afternoon, a bird suddenly swooped down from a hiding place in the beams, divebombed the harp and settled on the window ledge, ruffled but perky.
It was a black and speckled starling, one of the so-called gangsters of the bird world. The only way the bird could have come into the house was by way of the chimney. Earlier that day we had noticed disturbed drapes, and a loosened inside window screen, and though we blamed the cat, we never suspected we had a bird in the house. The soothing sound of the harp apparently brought it out from its hiding place.
The starling flew from the window to the bookcase and back to the fireplace screen, and the cat followed its flight-path at ground level. We quickly opened the front door, and the sooty starling flew out over the hay field.
Another time, Julia and I came
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