I Heard a Petey, Petey, Petey Bird Today

I never paid much attention to the voices of birds, but now I do. One of my literary idols, E.B. White, was very good at it:

Early summer days are a jubilee time for birds. In the fields, around the house, in the barn, in the woods, in the
swamp - everywhere love and songs and nests and eggs. From the edge of the woods, the white-throated sparrow
(which must come all the way from Boston) calls, "Oh, Peabody, Peabody, Peabody!" On an apple bough, the phoebe
teeters and wags its tail and says, "Phoebe, phoe-bee!" The song sparrow, who knows how brief and lovely life is, says,
"Sweet. sweet, sweet interlude; sweet, sweet interlude." If you enter the barn, the swallows swoop down from their
nests and scold. "Cheeky, cheeky!" they say.

- from "Charlotte's Web"



Who can say it better than that?