The Ringing Spout ep 65

Waddling past the bicycle wheel, I spotted a wide zinc watering can resting among the garden gravel. Its brass sprinkler rose glinted right at my eye level. I froze three paces away, tilting my head from side to side to check if any water would suddenly splash. Everything stayed motionless. Creeping forward, I lined up my orange beak and struck the perforated metal face—ting! A deep, hollow ring vibrated right through the tin belly and hummed against my knotted rope feet. I hopped back in surprise, neck bobbing. Drawn by the echo, I leaned right in and murmured into the cluster of tiny holes, delighted when the dark chamber hummed back.