The sun comes up early in Franklin, fifteen minutes earlier than it does in my recent home of Sarasota. I don’t make it a point to see the sunrise unless my bio-rhythms call me out of bed for some reason or if I am in a unique place that almost demands a viewing, like India or the east coast of New Zealand.  Yesterday I was awoken in the early twilight of sunrise by an odd, rhythmic clicking sound. It was so regular that it almost seemed like a machine. I was curious, so was the cat. We both pulled ourselves from sleep and went to the window. There was a Brown Thrasher, aggressively “working” the piles of leaves in my backyard, flicking them about and grabbing morsels of insects, grubs and worms that were still slow-moving in the coolness of the early day. Is his clicking (also  described as a “smacking”) some kind of sonar?  He “worked” my yard for most of the morning. This photo was taken more than three hours later.  He seemed very well fed and content. There’s a lot of that on Fawn Hill.  ☙