Because the sound – which is a short, dulled tap on reinforced glass made by the beaks of piping shrikes come one at a time to sit on the window sill and peck at the insects into which said shrikes have put no personal harvesting effort beyond that required to balance on the window sill which, despite being part of the contemporary extension and not of the bluestone original, is not a particularly narrow or unstable one – is, even now, after three years of living here, the kind of sound which makes me jump and wonder but what was that and so is the kind of sound I would forget were I not reminded of it every day, because of that, I will leave the cobwebs on the outside window frames.