It took a good, long, collaborative while, but those of us living here have settled on a name. Listening Tree Cooperative. Or Lis’ning Tree Co-op for short.
While we were eating dinner out on the deck, the turkeys came by. Two mothers with seventeen adolescent turkeys have been roosting most nights in white pines close behind the house. They stage their awkward, flappy launches from our yard, one by one.
Wednesday morning I woke up early enough, and dawn broke late enough, that I heard for the first time the flock descend, again, one by one, to start their day. Now I’m listening every morning for their little gobbles and under-the-breath blurps and cackles and that I-can-fly-but-I’d-really-rather-not flapping.
I’m sure the trees have been listening all along.