Sunday Bloody Sunday

Woke early this morning and watched the birds on the wire. They chattered above us while Gracie ate her food. We imagined them talking about us and our coffee. LeRoy, the neighborhood rooster, crowed every couple of minutes from a street over. I heard a weird noise, a buzzing, and saw a bird diving toward us, above Judge's head, and a tiny speck flying before him. Another loud buzz and a smack as this gentleman hit the patio. Look at it. It's huge. I believe it is a cicada.
They're lovely and loud and have often filled my childhood evenings with their insistent song. I love how matches the patio pebbles.
We were driving around today and Judge mentioned we needed to look for LeRoy, since I haven't actually seen him yet. He roosts in Big Baby's yard and wakes at 4 every morning, crowing loudly and waking the neighborhood. He then wanders around and returns before dusk, back to Big Baby's tree. We pulled down the street and there he was - between Bazzle's yard and his neighbor's. He was feeding him popcorn.
Once, Baby told me that one of the neighbors had a problem with one of the other neighbors and threatened to call animal control on the rooster. Bazzle overheard them saying, "You can't call animal control over LeRoy. He's all our's rooster." I love it - "all our's rooster."

Yes, he is. And he sure is pretty. It's pronounced Lee-Roi, all cajun-like.