And in a continuation of long ritual, a couple of sparrow-like birds began researching a nesting spot up under the front eave. Thus it has been for years -- same research, same nest, same decisions ... different day.
As I say, the storm door was open to the outside and the sparrow-like companion was bound to research the scene. Which s/he did by flying about a foot into the enclosed porch space, not six feet from where I was sitting. S/he advanced like a less-kool humming bird, hovering as best s/he might, eyeballing the porch surroundings.
And before I could stop myself, the words, as always, were out of my mouth -- strong, but not too loud: "No, no, no, no, no...."
Without a word, s/he broke off hovering a foot inside the porch confines and returned to the outdoors where s/he would be more at home ... create a home. The voice had done it. "No" from my lips was "no" to his/her ear.
"No" meant no from where I sat -- don't get confused and snared by the porch. And "no" meant no from where s/he hovered. Two languages speaking precisely the same language. Cross-lingual communication that was precisely on target.
It reminded me a bit of the sweet scenes in the movie "Ghost Dog" in which the protagonist speaks English and the ice-cream truck operator speaks (with subtitles) French and they are both on the same frequency and, more interestingly, know they are despite the differences in language that neither can understand.