Poems and Thoughts    by Frank Maurer

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White-crowneds Juxtaposed with the Great Horneds. October. The crying wheeze of the White-crowned Sparrow. They have returned from their East-West migration, To delightfully and voraciously 'gourmand' from my hanging feeders: The feeders of which have been basically vacant all summer, Except for a family of House Finches weaning their young to seed, Now that they are strong from their entomophagous first diet. Soon will be November, accompanied with the short days of winter, Bringing in a new sound of the courting Great Horned Owl pair. They have sheltered in our huge non-native Eucalypts for decades, And the regular call and response of the pair are heard throughout the night; One series of hoots is lower than the higher alternating responder. The female owl, as with all raptors, manifests a larger body than her male. For a time, I mistakenly assumed she had the lower vocalization, But with research, I found the opposite to be true. How wonderful a concert--White-crowns all day and gentle hoots during the night. These are sounds, having entertained ancient Natives, centuries before. Yes, the same sounds we enjoy today, if we care to stop and listen. Well, those 'same calls', given that, as with all language evolution, We today might be hearing just a slight , indiscernible shift of a note or two! {Deicated to Melissa, Her Uncle, and Her CHildhood with the White-crowned Sparrows.} Frank Maurer 12 October 2025 0225 Hours.