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Gen 122013
 

The forest laid still, yet not quiet.

Doctor Saunders appeared content as always and perfectly at ease with the awful noise, as if nothing was wrong. For a good while I did not dare to ask anything.

“Hot damn!” I eventually blurted — my ears nearly bleeding from the piercing noise, my attempt at feigning indifference foiled — “what’s this screeching sound?”

“Awful, isn’t it?” Saunders answered placidly — smiling to himself as it was his wont  — “It’s the sawgulls. Lots of the little pests around this time of the year.

“Timber!”