A quiet rattle in the dry grass

I nudged a pale, crown-topped seedpod resting across the garden gravel. It wobbled on its rounded belly... and gave a tiny, dry rattle from deep inside? I paused, crouching low on the warm slate to listen. Taking one slow step forward, I tapped the brittle stem with my front paw. It spun a sleepy half-circle, letting out another soft, papery rustle across the pebbles. Did a garden flower pack a secret pocket full of tiny beads just to whisper to me?