(Brain) size doesn't matter

Last month I had occasion to fill the birdfeeder in my parents' back yard.  They were out of town, so it had been empty for almost a week. 

It was a cold, grey, still day.  There didn't seem to be any birds about; the air was silent, almost like a snowfall hush.  The clink of the feeder against its pole was loud. 

I set the feeder down, opened it, and poured in the seed--about thirty seconds' worth of work.  And as I hung it back up, I heard the first note, a chirp of sound in the stillness.  Just one voice at first, and then taken up by another, and another, passing the news around the local trees as I made my way out of the yard.  Someone was landing on the feeder before I'd even left, before it had stopped swaying. 

And they were still passing it around--the news spreading at the speed of cheep. 

(Brain) size doesn't matter

Last month I had occasion to fill the birdfeeder in my parents' back yard.  They were out of town, so it had been empty for almost a week. 

It was a cold, grey, still day.  There didn't seem to be any birds about; the air was silent, almost like a snowfall hush.  The clink of the feeder against its pole was loud. 

I set the feeder down, opened it, and poured in the seed--about thirty seconds' worth of work.  And as I hung it back up, I heard the first note, a chirp of sound in the stillness.  Just one voice at first, and then taken up by another, and another, passing the news around the local trees as I made my way out of the yard.  Someone was landing on the feeder before I'd even left, before it had stopped swaying. 

And they were still passing it around--the news spreading at the speed of cheep.