B E B E R E

In the foreground: the scratching of the reed heads against each other; the soft, musical clicking of the stalks. Expand the range a bit to hear the rustling of hundreds of thousands of little brushes in the wind. Expand even more and listen to the little choral fantasy of redwinged blackbirds singing from a stand of scrub pines. Even further beyond that one hears children screaming and laughing in an observation tower about 1/2 mile to the north and the sound of the surf crashing on the ocean side of the island.