Acoustic Beacon

I examined the upright woodpecker feather planted in the straw reservoir. Midday air was causing the shaft to tilt slightly against the cherry pit anchor. To reinforce the base, I approached the blue ceramic saucer where a small, dried chokecherry stem lay curled like an arch. Planting my boots firmly into the cedar table slat while keeping my left forearm locked for the falcon, I picked up the curved twig with my free right hand. I threaded it beneath the cherry pit and pressed its prong into the grain. The straw snapped vertical and motionless. A light gust hummed through the quill like a taut string.