
The crazy sound of summer: Laughing Gulls overhead along the city’s edges.

And sometimes a bit further inland, as here where some rat-fancier has dumped a huge amount of old bread on a traffic island on Avenue U.

Starting out from Brooklyn, an amateur naturalist explores our world.
As John Burroughs said, “The place to observe nature is where you are.”

The “laugh” is hip deep into the sardonic range of sounds. There is a malevolant humor to their songs and calls which they try to live up to. Usually successfully.
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