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  • I've been learning to appreciate the natural sounds and presence of life-not-human lately. So at the pond near my house on Sunday after a long long day with a bit of emotional turmoil attached to it, along with the joy, I was wandering among the vegetation at the edge of Tripp's Pond while Peter threw in a line to see if there was fish (another story there). I was trying to capture the sounds of the frogs talking and calling, but the music from one of the nearby homes was drowning them out. They were blasting a radio station playing 80's greatest hits... I know, I know. Yuk. 80's music was not the 60's with Motown and the rise of American appreciation for British rock or the blues or jazz. But I digress.

    The music from the house party was drowning out the frogs, but the photo needed a natural sound attached to it, so I included the cockadoodledoo of the rooster who was begging food from the diners at the picnic tables at Kimball's in Westford last week. My grandsons were delighted in the rooster's boldness and in their Nonna's hopping up fast to get her butt out of the rooster's reach. I did manage to turn on my recorder and capture that sound before he wandered away with a piece of white bread doused in butter and toasted. (A hot dog bun that can't have been too good for him, but the temptation of feeding the animal was more than the man at the next picnic table could bear.)
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