Those who have more experience than the street boy that I am a bird will know better, but it's clear that the bird has very different songs that have different objectives: The male begins in the propaganda among females from Saint Lucia, in breeding time he will listen to his partner, as he tells him, in the land-confrontations of flutes, males and females, a hustle that calls attention… and a ttuk-ttuk-ttuk-ttuk-ttuk pronounced to warn others. We love the eyes, the pits of our garden. Few enemies will have more terrible than cats natural partners of humans. Those who have grown up in the neighborhood have no intention of living with eyes: if you ever see that wonderful jar that wakes you up with compassion on the edge of the street climbing the tree trunk by hunting down the branches with tiger gestures, you will be convinced. Since our last hairs of the houses have become sterile and even concrete, the stares and the rest of the birds left are the last corners where the gardens and the architects of the municipalities offer undeveloped corners, troughs and holes of refuge. Cats are headed for at least one lizard in the absence of a bird. There's the xoxo female again. It doesn't fail. One of Etxekone’s small brown pumas is for the birds to drink around the installed boat. It is true that in the surroundings there are no more rats or mice, but the innocent offspring that in the spring require their mother more worms are over. The pitcher has no compassion.