The simplest description of a wood thrush song is a flutelike eee-o-lay, but that does not describe its complexity. One summer evening at twilight, I sat on my porch, watching mist rise from trees and grass. The rain had just passed. When the song began, I closed my eyes and listened to the rising then falling notes, music rolling around the clearing, bouncing off the edge of the forest as the thrush harmonized with himself.
Nancy Overcott, Fifty Uncommon Birds of the Upper Midwest