On our afternoon walk, Simon and I were ambushed by a choir of Mountain Bellwort. What a fine surprise for an old man, just in time for his seventy-seventh birthday. After a moment I realized they were singing to me, some sort of repetitive chant in a vaguely minor key.
Actually, they have been singing to me for years, but until today, I thought it was only tinnitus. I never imagined their wee voices could carry so far.