Emphasis Preaching Journal

He'd always enjoyed bird-watching, and found that some of them, like the meadowlark had such easily identified calls he knew they were around even if he couldn't immediately spot them. Once you'd heard a meadowlark's piercing song there was no mistaking it, a distinctive, musical whistling sound, almost shrill as it speared into your awareness. Sometimes he'd hear the meadowlark singing just before dawn, when it was still too dark to see. But he knew that somewhere out in the dim new light of day was a handsome bird with a bright yellow breast crossed by a black V.