When I got to work the other morning, besides piles of oak pollen lying in the lot, and besides low gray clouds skirting above the treetops, there was a Titmouse singing in a Live Oak tree. I took out my phone and recorded its song. And then I turned up my phone volume and played the song back. The Titmouse was intrigued. It listened for a moment and hopped one branch closer. And then it listened again and hopped yet closer. Until it was just above my head on the lowest hanging branch over me.
It listened and cocked its head, looking down in my general direction. It did this several times. And then, thoroughly flummoxed, the Titmouse flew off in the direction of some other, more distant, Titmouse song.